


Beginnings

by MissSilverWings



Series: The Carolina Connection [1]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Comfort, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Gen, Humor, Mild Language, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 01:59:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5112149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSilverWings/pseuds/MissSilverWings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The southeastern corner of North Carolina - where it all begins. The MCRT is sent to participate in a major mission to stop the scourge of drugs from entering the country and into the military bases on the eastern seaboard. They encounter so much more than anyone ever expected.</p>
<p>Gibbs, DiNozzo, McGee and a new DEA character tangle with a ruthless Colombian drug lord/weapons dealer who has a mole in DEA. First of a series. I do hope you enjoy it and will leave your comments. Takes place sometime after the current season. Complete!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Carolina Connection: Book 1 part 1: BEGINNINGS

 

* * *

 

 

 

A tall distinguished looking man sat behind a large desk in a nicely appointed private office. The early morning light from the windows behind him reflected on his short silvery-white hair, as he sat quietly thinking.

He glanced around the familiar office, _'I missed this place,'_  he thought. While his promotions to other posts had been gratifying, he missed the hands-on work and the feeling of actually making a difference that he had had here during his previous tenure as NCIS Director.

It seemed that the other posts were strictly political, currying favor or having favor curried, always some event he had to attend with a bunch of people who were also obligated to be there, though they didn't want to be, either. He had had enough.

He leaned forward and rubbed his left leg which had never really stopped aching after he sustained a severe injury during a drone attack that had blown up the venue where he had been in attendance. But he wouldn't complain. Skilled doctors and nurses had worked long and hard to prevent the loss of that leg and he was thankful to still have it.

With very little notice, Leon Vance, the previous Director, had resigned because both of his motherless children had begun to exhibit behavioral problems when the fact of the matter was that they simply needed their father's time and attention. This job offered none of that. Thus he had found himself being offered the vacated position for his second tour of duty in the Naval Yard which he had accepted immediately. Everything had occurred very quickly and he was amused to see a brass nameplate already on his desk: Thomas Morrow, Director.  _'They still move fast around here,'_  he thought with a chuckle.

He knew and respected the people in this building. He knew their dedication, determination and diligence in completing any assignment given to them and he was happy to be back as part of it.

He arrived extra early this morning for the sole purpose of having this quiet time to reacquaint himself with this place, to breathe in its history and to visualize its future. In many ways, he felt as if he had returned home to a place where he actually belonged.

He was about to drop an assignment of major proportion on his number one MCRT but smiled as he thought of the bulldog-tough former marine gunnery sergeant who led that team. Nobody in all of NCIS even came close to the case closure rate his team had – and probably never would. The man could be a terror when they caught a bad case but he never stopped until the case was solved. Everybody walked softly around Senior Supervisory Special Agent Gibbs.

Yes, he was glad to be back.

He smiled and sighed.  _'Time to get this underway.'_

* * *

One level down from the Executive Suite in what is known as 'the bullpen', a cell phone rang. "Yeah..Gibbs."

Listening briefly, the tall silver-haired man ended the connection, barking, "With me, now!"

Without another word, he turned and headed toward a stairway, easily taking the steps two at a time to the upper level. Behind him, the two members of his team obediently follow. Paulette, the Director's secretary in the outer office just smiled as the team leader walked straight to the inner office door and opened it without as much as a pause. She knew it would be a waste of time to do anything else.

Like his secretary, Director Morrow knew from experience that the man now standing before him would never change so he'd may as well make his own life easier and just accept that fact. He liked this Leroy Jethro Gibbs and, though many in the building might regard him with fear or dislike, all respected him highly.

"Good morning, gentlemen. Have a seat," he greeted them genially and gestured with a wave of his hand in the general direction of the large highly polished conference table opposite his desk.

While their taciturn leader took a seat silently, the two younger agents parroted "Good morning, Director," before taking their own seats.

After welcoming the new Director back, the older agent asked quietly, "What's up, Tom?"

Joining the agents at the table, Director Morrow paused as his secretary delivered four mugs and a large pot of steaming coffee, then left with a pleasant smile in response to their thanks.

Informally distributing the mugs, the new Director of NCIS sighed. "As you know, on-base drug problems are growing in spite of all the measures we already have in place. At both Norfolk and at Camp Lejeune, as it pertains to us, and all other services as well. That's one of the reasons I was asked to come back - to see if we can get a handle on it."

Morrow continued, "DEA has been working closely with the Coast Guard and ICE people, and they want us and other service CIDs to join in making a strong, concerted effort in curbing it. It is generally felt that we should concentrate on locking down the supply lines that are bringing it in. If it can't be delivered, it can't be sold or used."

The Director pressed a button on a remote control he held and an enlarged map appeared on a hidden screen behind the conference table at which they sat. Morrow adjusted the focus until only the area from just above Norfolk, VA down to the small city of Wilmington in the southeastern corner of North Carolina was shown.

"Our attention is drawn more and more to the Wilmington area for many reasons, some of which are: it's a port of entry, has an international airport, many small off-the-grid landing strips around, easy access to the Interstate highway system, a large college-age population, and a very, very long coastline."

The agents at the table studied the map carefully, noting the many methods of smuggling possible in that one place. Shaped like a narrow upside down pyramid, the small county in which Wilmington was located was situated between the Cape Fear River on the western side and the Atlantic Ocean on the eastern side.

Morrow continued, "Wilmington is only about thirty-five miles south of Camp Lejeune, the largest Marine base on the east coast, and all of its satellite bases – Camp Geiger, Cherry Point MCAS, New River MCAS, and others. Then less than ninety miles to the west northwest is Ft. Bragg, which is enormous, Pope AFB, Seymour Johnson AFB, plus Coast Guard stations all up and down the coast."

"A lot of targets in a relatively small space," Gibbs noted quietly.

"Yes," agreed Morrow. "I want your team down there, Jethro. You'll liaise with a DEA Special Agent MacKenzie. I've been given to understand that Mac, as they seem to call him, is a smart, capable agent and knows the area intimately. I believe you'll be in good hands."

Consulting a paper in front of him, he continued, "This MacKenzie seems to think that Carlos Alvada is involved. If that is true, bringing him down will eliminate a massive source of drugs into this country. MacKenzie doesn't have proof but apparently it's a strong hunch. You'll decide for yourself."

Gibbs nodded. At least they would have a fourth team member to work with. That spot had been vacant for a while now since Ellie Bishop returned to NSA.

Pushing a sheet of paper toward Gibbs, Morrow continued, "It's about a seven-hour drive so you'll want to be on the road as soon as possible. DEA will arrange accommodations for you so just ask when you arrive. Contact number for MacKenzie is there, also."

"How long?" Gibbs asked.

"No set time. Get a good overview of everything. Get all the info you can find. Work with other agencies as you see fit... _but be nice!_  We don't need to be cut out of vital info because you ticked somebody off, Jethro. Go, come, use your judgment. Just get me something to work with!"

Taking their cue from the Director, the agents stood then shook his hand as they left. Downstairs in the bullpen Gibbs instructed his two agents, "Go home, pack for an extended stay and get back here before nine. Get what gear you think we might need from the quartermaster, sign out two cars and be sure the tanks are topped off. Divide the gear between the two cars. Go!"

* * *

Five o'clock that afternoon found the top NCIS Major Case Response Team pulling into parking places next to the big stone Alton Lennon Federal Building beside the Cape Fear River in downtown Wilmington. Exiting the cars, the three agents stretched for a moment as their sharp eyes automatically took in their surroundings and the scene around them.

The afternoon sun was bright in the clear Carolina blue sky. The October air was pleasantly warm here and a light breeze felt good on their faces.

At the foot of the wide expanse of steps that led up to the westward-facing building was a narrow street appropriately named Water Street. Immediately across the street was a long, long park bordering the broad Cape Fear River. Many people sat here and there on benches where they could indulge in free moments of watching the wide blue river or fountains that dotted the mile-plus length of Riverwalk Park as others leisurely strolled along amongst small trees.

Though the setting was somewhat reminiscent of the setting of the Naval Yard on the branch of the Potomac River known as the Anacostia, this setting felt much more inviting and the wide river itself was a  _great_  deal closer.

The attention of all three agents was momentarily captured by the historic and majestic WWII battleship, the USS North Carolina, as it sat in its final mooring place on the opposite bank of the river a very short distance upstream.

Special Agent McGee grinned, "A little bigger than the Barry, huh?" A pair of smiles and nods agreed with him.

Showing their ID at a security checkpoint just inside the main door, they were directed to the third floor, where they located the door marked with the seal of the DEA.

Entering a very large rectangular room on the front side of the building that faced west, there were orderly rows of desks, each equipped with a computer and monitor, as a line of standard filing cabinets stood silent guard along the back wall.

Tony noticed a door off to one side where admittance was only granted by a high-tech retina scanner.  _'Must be their version of MTAC_ ', he thought.

There weren't many agents in sight and after a first quick glance most simply turned back to whatever they were working on as one of the older agents got up and approached them. "Can I help ya?"

Gibbs held up his badge then flipped it expertly to show his ID credentials. "NCIS. Looking for Special Agent MacKenzie."

The unnamed agent turned and called out, "Hey, Mac! Ya got company!"

A young woman noted their presence and approached with a smile, "Hi. May I help you?"

There is no way this woman is the "guy" they are supposed to meet! Standing only about five foot three, her face had that clean wholesome look that is shared by only a very small handful of the world's truly most beautiful women. Shiny dark brown hair that was almost black fell below her shoulders like a silk waterfall and her low voice was touched with a soft Southern accent that was soothing to their ears.

Blue eyes narrowed, Gibbs responded a little cautiously, "Yeah. We're supposed to meet one of your agents here. Guy by the name of MacKenzie?"

Her smile lit up her face and soft brown eyes as she noted the confused expressions on their faces. Gibbs noted her expression and felt as if some joke was on him and it irritated him. "Well? Is MacKenzie here?" he asked a little sharply.

The DEA agent replied with a slightly mischievous grin as those brown eyes sparkled, "Yep, Special Agent MacKenzie is here – and I'm her."

With a hint of a giggle, she stuck out her hand, "Molly MacKenzie. Sorry 'bout that. Everybody thinks I'm a 'him' for some reason."

Gibbs blinked as his blue eyes quickly took in the slim female form of the agent unable to imagine how anybody could ever mistake those feminine curves for any other gender. He immediately shot an icy warning glance at DiNozzo who looked as if he had stopped breathing.

"Special Agents Gibbs, DiNozzo, McGee, NCIS." They all shook hands, then MacKenzie gestured toward her desk near the southwestern corner beside the line of big windows that looked out on the blue river, "Come, have a seat. We'll lay out our objectives and see how I can best help you. Coffee?"

As they were settling themselves, MacKenzie brought mugs of hot coffee with an assortment of creamers, sweeteners and sugar on a small tray she had confiscated from some where. The coffee wasn't as strong as Gibbs liked it, but not even he could really complain about it.

As soon as she settled herself at her desk, they began discussing the area's many doorways for drug smuggling. Pointing out specific areas on a large map, MacKenzie filled them in on detailed intel pertaining to each one.

"I'd really like for you to see everything from the air. That will tell you more that you can ever get from a map. If that is agreeable, I'll call the field and make arrangements for in the morning."

DiNozzo asked, "You have names of those you suspect is behind all these drugs or is it more than one organization?"

"Yes. Personally – I think there is one major operator – Carlos Alvada - with maybe two others operating on a much smaller scale. According to my informants, Alvada is interested primarily in the military bases. As long as the small fry don't try to infringe on his market, I don't think he will bother them. He has eyes every where. They've probably already noted your presence here. He's also begun to use some Latino gang members here to do their bidding in exchange for drugs – really bad gangs, like MS-13 for example. Another reason why the small fry won't challenge him."

Gibbs asked, "You said 'personally'?"

Molly hesitated for a fraction of a second before responding quietly, "Others have different opinions. I go by what I see and what I see is one very powerful drug kingpin shipping tons of drugs through here to be distributed over a large section of the southeast – mainly to military facilities. The little guys carefully stay out of his way, mainly furnishing drugs for the local population. And - - " Her voice trailed off.

"And what?" Gibbs prompted softly.

Her soft brown eyes held his powerful blue eyes steadily as she answered in a very low, quiet voice, "And – even though we've made some very good raids – especially lately, they too often seem to be one step ahead of us."

Gibbs inclined his head slightly. His voice was little more than a whisper, "Any thoughts on that?"

Her eyes flickered toward the other DEA agents once before responding in that very soft whisper, "Later."

Even Gibbs found himself impressed with their DEA liaison. Observant, lightning fast mind, facts and information recalled instantly, reported succinctly and to-the-point. His kind of agent.

Later, their initial plan of action agreed upon, MacKenzie sat up straighter, picked up her cellphone and grinned, "Y'all want rooms with a riverfront view or an ocean front view?"

One quick call and their rooms were booked at an oceanfront hotel.

McGee asked, "You can book rooms that easily?"

Again that smile that lit up her face, "It's after Labor Day. The tourists go home and we get our town back for a while. Okay, food: fresh seafood, eastern Carolina barbecue or steaks?"

The thought of seafood fresh from the water couldn't be resisted. "Y'all follow me. I know just the place."

Gibbs decided to leave one of the cars here for the time being so Tony's bags were switched from the car he had driven to Gibbs' car. Tony's car was then secured in the underground Federal parking area beneath the huge building. The NCIS team followed the DEA agent's rugged, mud-spattered red jeep to a small, family-style restaurant where she was obviously well-known and liked.

A much older woman wrapped her in a big hug as soon as she walked in. "Mac! Where ya been, Sugar? I've been worryin' 'bout ya."

"Hey, Sylvia! Just been workin'. Ya know how it goes!"

"Tell me about it!" Noticing the three tall men behind her, gray-haired Sylvia commented slyly, "Well, looks like ya found a little spare time somewhere. Who are these good-lookin' guys?"

Laughing, Molly answered, "Business colleagues from DC, Sylvia!"

Sylvia's blue eyes sparkled with good humor, "Well, ya'll come on in, find yourself a seat and get in it. I'll be back in a jif!"

The atmosphere of the little restaurant was warm, inviting and relaxing. Old pine panel walls that had aged into a deep golden color set the tone of the place.

Seating options consisted of a dozen or so swiveling bar stools in a precise line in front of a pristine counter, a bank of booths that occupied the entire front wall of big windows and finally, a few wooden tables with four chairs each filled in empty spaces at the far end of the rectangular room.

The day's special menu was scribbled on a blackboard, although regulars knew exactly what special was served on which night.

The main dinner rush was over so it was a bit quieter as the four settled themselves into one of the booths, Gibbs and Molly on one side, DiNozzo and McGee across from them. Getting their orders, Sylvia gave them to the cook in back and brought their beverages: "Two cups of coffee, one sweet tea with lemon and a cup of used motor oil," she announced with a grin, noting the slightly bashful half-smile on the oldest agent's face in response to his request for "the strongest coffee ya got."

The MCRT found themselves completely relaxed and at ease as they chatted, getting to know MacKenzie. One of the other customers got up to refill his own tea glass and, as was the custom of the regulars, offered refills to everyone else before returning the big stainless steel pitcher to its place behind the counter. The three DC guests noted this with interest, but when one checked himself out at the cash register while Sylvia was busy elsewhere, their eyes really sharpened.

Molly couldn't help but giggle softly at their silent reaction. That was standard practice in this little restaurant. The same families had been eating here for generations – and the till had never been short. Never.

McGee chuckled and shook his head, "That's something I'll see nowhere else, I'd bet."

Molly told him, "If Sylvia is swamped, one of the regulars will grab an extra order pad from behind the counter and take orders. Another will man the register until she gets free. I love this place."

DiNozzo asked, "You've been coming here a long time?"

A soft smile hovered over her face. "My grandparents brought me here when I was little. Been comin' ever since – just like most people here."

Sylvia brought large oval platters that were heaped with fresh flounder, lightly fried shrimp, crisp french fries, creamy cole slaw and a big basket of sweet, melt-in-your-mouth hushpuppies with lots of butter on the side.

The conversation was light and easy, very little "shop talk" with the exception of a few funny anecdotes. Molly noted that Gibbs was very, very quiet and said little. McGee talked a bit but the real talker of the team was undoubtedly Tony. Gibbs finally told him to shut up and eat.

Tony complained, "Boss, I've been in that car ..."

Gibbs glared and Tony sighed, "Shutting up now, Boss."

McGee couldn't hide a grin and a chuckle.

Eating until they could eat no more, they talked a short time longer as they finished their coffee refills, then Molly paid their bill, leaving a generous tip for the the genial Sylvia. "My 'welcome' treat, guys! Y'all can get all the rest of 'em while you're here."

The drive to a nearby island beach from the restaurant took only about fifteen minutes and they checked into a beautiful resort hotel where each of the large rooms had a nice balcony overlooking the Atlantic. Molly bid them goodnight and left for her own small home.

After getting settled in their rooms, the agents, each on his own balcony, sat in comfortable chairs, feeling fresh ocean air blowing through his hair, listening to the restless Atlantic. It was almost hypnotising to watch the moon's sparkles on the dark water as white-capped breakers rolled in one after the other less than two hundred feet away, leaving long lines of white foam on the beach as it retreated.

Each was thinking back over the afternoon and evening spent in the company of one very sharp DEA Special Agent who looked nothing like what they had expected. Each one of them had found himself doing or saying something humorous just to see her smile.

At one point Tony asked Gibbs on the balcony next door, "Sure beats looking at orange walls, doesn't it, Boss?"

Having driven one of the NCIS cars all the way from DC alone, Tony had been especially loquacious that night. The long seven-hour drive alone had been really hard on him since he'd had nobody to talk to. But it had been the boss' decision and the dark-haired agent had just grinned since he knew it hadn't happened  _without_  malice aforethought. The silent Gibbs and the quiet McGee would enjoy each other's company without his own non-stop chatter to disturb them.

It wasn't long before yawns drove them back inside for showers, then were lulled to sleep by the Atlantic's soft song in the background.

 

~ Continued ~

* * *

Author's Notes:  I originally published this series on fanfic under the pen name of Singing Silverwings, beginning in January 2015.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1 part 1: Beginnings

* * *

 

 A swarthy black-haired man of medium height and heavyweight sat on the deck of an enormous gleaming white yacht moored at a marina on that same narrow but long island, smoking his first cigar of the day with a cup of fine Colombian coffee, hot and brimming with the wonderful taste of the mountains where he grew up. The smallish round table at which he sat was covered with a pristine white linen cloth. This man had only the best. He could afford it.

A younger man nervously sat at the small table with him, but kept himself quiet until his obese superior decided to speak.

Manuel Carrara worked hard to keep this man's business interests running as smoothly as possible in this area but lately they had lost too many shipments and that would never be tolerated. It was understood that a shipment would be lost now and then but not at the rate that been occurring. This area was perfect for landing and distributing the huge shipments of drugs but lately there seemed to be more cops around making it much more difficult.

Stabbing the stub of the cigar in the sparkling crystal ashtray that sat near his coffee, Manuel's boss brought him sharply back to the present with a jerk.

"So, Manuel. You know why you're here; what do you have to say for yourself?" Alvada's voice was in a pleasant tone but there was menacing danger just beneath the surface.

"Señor Alvada, I have no answer for the losses. I have tried everything I could think of to insure safe passage of your cargo but the policia seem like gnats that swarm in the summer. I have checked into the lives of every man we employee but can find no hint of transgression."

Manuel's voice was soft and shook slightly because he knew that his life was on the line. He was responsible for running this very powerful man's business here and failures were not tolerated well. "I have to accept responsibility, Señor, but I honestly do not know what more I can do. I – I have – failed you - - but I beg your forgiveness."

For a very long moment, Carlos Alvada sat with an unblinking stare directed at the frightened man before him. There was more emotion to be found in the dead black eyes of a shark than in those of the man across from him.

"Manuel, how long have you been in my employ?" His voice was soft but the underlying hardness wasn't disguised at all.

A little startled at the question, Manuel stammered as he thought back. "Uh, I – I think it – is about fourteen, maybe fifteen years, Señor."

A beautifully crafted silver knife appeared in Alvada's big pudgy hands as he began to clean his nails with it's six inch blade. Carrara could barely swallow as his eyes fastened onto the knife, believing that he was breathing his last.

Alvada nodded his head thoughtfully before saying, "In all those years, I've never known you to fail. For that fact alone, you will continue in your present position, but there must  _not_  be any more losses, do you understand?"

His hand faster than a snake could strike, Alvada drove the knife through the top of Manuel's hand that had been resting flat on the table, driving the point of the blade all the way through it and into the wood of the table's top. A bright red stain grew steadily in size on the white linen cloth that covered it. Gasping in shock, fear and pain, Manuel somehow managed to swallow the scream that fought to escape from his throat.

His voice rough and coarse, Manuel managed to gasp, "Si, Señor! You are - most gracious to - give me another chance. I will do my best – as I always have. I give you my - promise!"

Manuel couldn't tear his eyes away for the black emotionless eyes staring at him. Alvada hid his grin, allowing his minion more time to squirm at the hard unbroken stare he gave. Reaching across the table, Alvada grabbed the hilt of the knife, roughly ripping it free of the wood and his employee's hand. "I hope you do well, Manuel. I do not like losing long-time associates. Leave me now."

Standing, bowing repeatedly, the frightened man stammered, "Si, Señor Alvada. It will stop! I will go and work hard for you. Adios, Señor!" Head spinning, eyes blurry, ears ringing, stomach nauseous, he weakly staggered off the gleaming white yacht and across the marina's parking lot, a trail of blood marking his path.

Fumbling with the keys, Carrara finally got the car door unlocked and open, then he all but fell into the driver's seat, nearly overwhelmed by the sudden attack. He pulled a clean handkerchief out of his pants pocket and tried to wrap it around his injured hand the best he could. He pulled a cell phone from a small carrier on the dash with a shaking hand and punched in a number.

"Si?" a gruff noncommittal voice answered.

"Manuel. Necesidad de ver el Médico." ("Manuel. Need to see the doctor.")

"Venga." ("Come on.")

The connection was broken and Manuel's dark blue BMW left the parking lot and pulled out onto the highway, his destination being a certain small, neat house that sat well back from the road behind a thick stand of shrubs and trees on the other side of the county.

Once inside, a white-haired man looked at the badly damaged hand and commented, "You really should have surgery on this, Manuel. You will probably not regain full use of it without it."

"Doc, you know I can't go to a hospital. Fix it up best you can. I got work to do."

Later, throbbing hand heavily bandaged, a pale, shaken and nauseous Manuel went to his small apartment and changed from his now-bloodied suit to jeans, shirt and boots. He carried an ordinary work jacket to an older model Ford of nondescript color that sported more than its share of dents and rust spots; the kind of car that wouldn't especially be noticed. He left with a mental list of his next moves.

* * *

Alvada knew Carrara wasn't guilty of having anything to do with his recent losses, but it never hurt to have a little chat with him and those like him once in awhile. Kept them on their toes and reinforced his power over them.

Alvada was not unaccustomed to violence. In his world, violence and death were an accepted part of life and doing business. Bodies, or parts of bodies, could be quite persuasive in some business deals. He was a greatly feared man. He knew it and smiled.

He sat at the bloody table enjoying another cigar in the warmth of the Carolina sun, smiling at the dazzling sparkles given off by the sun shining on the enormous diamond ring worn on his right hand. It may be October, but the weather here was perfect. Not too hot, not too cool, low humidity, nice breeze. He decided to stay here a while longer before having his crew set sail for his next destination. He needed to keep an eye on his interests but couldn't linger too long in any one place.

* * *

After a dawn run on the beach, showers and dressing followed by breakfast in the hotel dining room, Gibbs, DiNozzo and McGee drove to the large airport following the directions Molly had given them the night before.

On the far western side of the airport, they could see a big modern terminal, but on this side only a couple of smallish neat buildings, some fuel trucks neatly parked parallel to each other off to one side and several big hangars full of different kinds of small private aircraft. Molly was nowhere in sight.

Entering the closest building that looked like it could be an office, a friendly middle-aged man behind a counter turned and welcomed them with a smile. "Come on in, folks. Name's Mike. What can I do for ya?"

McGee told him, "We're supposed to meet Agent MacKenzie here. Do you know where she is?"

Mike's friendly smile was firmly in place as he answered, "Oh, Mac! Yeah, she's out there somewhere pre-flightin' an airplane."

Gibbs paused a moment, then cleared his throat, "Uh, yeah. Doesn't the pilot - usually do the pre-flight?"

Mike just looked at the silver-haired man a moment, then responded, "She  _is_  the pilot."

Gibbs, DiNozzo and McGee exchanged a look. She hadn't mentioned this last night.

Mike chuckled, "Ya got nothin' to worry about. She's the only pilot I let my kids fly with besides myself. That little gal has more smarts than any dozen people you'd put against her, includin' me and you. Don't ever underestimate her."

Gibbs just nodded, "Thanks," then he and his team walked back out into the golden morning sunshine. Walking toward them across the ramp, Molly had her attention on some papers in her hand before she looked up and noticed them with a smile. "Hi, guys! Y'all have a good night?"

DiNozzo answered with a mega-bright smile, "Best night's sleep I've had in a long time." He hoped his response hid his reaction of seeing her approaching them. Wearing boots, jeans and a red plaid short-sleeved shirt, complete with holster, gun and badge on her belt, her glistening dark hair pulled up in a high ponytail, dark glasses shielding her eyes from the sun, he felt his mouth suddenly get dry and his breath run a little short. He shot a fast glance at Gibbs who was staring at him with those icy blue eyes and knew the boss hadn't been the least bit fooled.

Molly grinned. "The ocean will do that. Let me turn in these papers and we'll be ready to go."

Paperwork done and sunglasses in place, she led the way toward a shiny single engine airplane painted in crisp white with a two-toned blue stripe that ran the full length of the fuselage giving it a clean, sleek, fast look. Opening a door revealing four nice blue leather seats inside, she told them, "Y'all decide who sits where. Buckle up with shoulder harnesses too, please."

Gibbs and DiNozzo elected to take the two rear seats, leaving Tim to sit up front on Molly's right. McGee was nearly as excited to go on this flight as he had been about the jet-pack adventure. "I've flown commercial plenty but never like this." His eyes were alight, his face was slightly flushed, and he could barely control the laughter that wanted to bubble up from somewhere within him.

As she double-checked their harnesses and seat belts, Molly's face beamed with a happy smile, "You'll love it, Tim. I soloed on my sixteenth birthday and haven't stopped flyin' since. In that time, I've earned advanced licenses and am rated to fly different types of aircraft, but I always love the small ones best."

Pointing to a small light green airplane sitting in a hangar, she said, "That one's mine. Looove that little airplane!"

"What kind is it?" Tim inquired with great interest.

"A little Piper SuperCub 135. Lycoming engine. It is as nimble as a mountain goat, responsive, stable, will turn on a dime and give you a nickel back! If we get a chance, we'll take it up and I'll teach you how to fly it."

Tim's green eyes were sparkling like Gibbs had never seen before. Yep, he'd make sure there was time for his junior agent to have another flight or two before they left.

As Molly prepared to start the engine, she became all business. She had gotten headsets on all of them which enabled her passengers to hear official communications and to converse easily with her and each other.

As soon as the engine settled into a powerful purr that satisfied her and the panel of gauges pointed where they were supposed to, she spoke into a small microphone that was fitted right into her headset, "Wilmington tower, good mornin'. Cessna 28-Romeo on the east ramp, ready to taxi, please."

"Good morning, Cessna 28-Romeo, Wilmington Tower. Wind north at 8, pressure steady at 30.12. Cleared to taxi to runway 34, hold short of the active."

"Copy wind and pressure, clear to taxi to runway 34, hold short of the active, 28-Romeo."

Carefully looking outside all around the airplane, it began to move as she advanced the throttle a little and guided it through what appeared to uneducated eyes as a tangled maze of concrete roads, then stopped and checked the engines, instruments and other things her passengers couldn't name, then called the tower again.

"Wilmington Tower, 28-Romeo ready for take off, local flight."

"28-Romeo, taxi onto runway 34, cleared for take off."

"Copy runway 34, cleared for take off, 28-Romeo."

Molly steadily advanced the throttle and lined up on centerline of the long runway before them, then as more throttle was added, the powerful engine moved them faster and faster until suddenly the rumbling noise of the undercarriage on the runway ceased and the little plane pointed its nose to the sky and climbed. Gear up, flaps up, power settings adjusted, Molly turned eastward toward the beaches as the Cessna completed its climb to the correct altitude, then south, flying parallel to the beach itself from a position just offshore.

It was a stellar day for flying. Smooth air, a crystal clear sky, unrestricted views of the white beaches and blue Atlantic water. Absolutely perfect!

Dynamite couldn't have blasted the smile from Tim's face. DiNozzo's wide smile was in full bloom as his green eyes tried to capture everything going on and around him. Gibbs' half smile softened his face as he watched the woman flying the plane. He had known many strong, capable women but this DEA agent intrigued him.

Though the agents were very familiar with all sorts of military aircraft and commercial flights, none of them were familiar with light civilian aircraft and each silently hoped that he wouldn't embarrass himself by getting airsick. They needn't have fretted; the air was calm and Molly was a very smooth pilot.

Molly kept their attention on the many things they were seeing, including pointing out ancient underwater wrecks of sunken Civil War and WWII ships offshore. Various marinas, including the one where Alvada's yacht was tied up, and inlets were noted as potential avenues of smuggling and quiet coves where boats could beach with little chance of being seen. And they could see the Intercoastal Waterway which extended the entire length of the eastern seaboard.

Looking down at the blue ocean, Tony yelped, "Look! Down there. What's that?"

Molly looked where he was pointing and smiled, "That's a pod of dolphins! Aren't they fantastic?" She circled the pod several times so her passengers could get a good look at them.

At certain places, the DEA agent pointed out specific locations she wanted the NCIS team to note.

When they reached the southern tip of the county where the Cape Fear River met the Atlantic Ocean, Molly reversed course going generally northward up the river which also afforded any number of isolated places for illegal activities. Continuing north, she pointed out small untended and unpaved fields where small aircraft could land and offload illegal cargo. Her passengers made notes and took in all she said. Thanks to their headsets, all of them could discuss the possibilities and point out other factors that could come into play.

Tony became so involved in what he was seeing and the on-going discussion that he completely forgot to worry about his stomach.

Traveling a little farther north into the next county, Molly flew over the southern part of a huge, sprawling wildlife refuge known as Holly Shelter, pointing out things of interest. On the return leg back towards the airport, the radio came to life again on a different frequency.

"Wildlife Ground Three to Air One. You out there, Mac?"

"Yeah, Beau. Whacha need?"

"Ya gotta minute to check somethin' for us?"

"Sure. Go."

"Looks like there might be some new activity up in the northern part of Holly Shelter just past the big creek, sort of toward the eastern side. We'd 'preciate it if you'd give it a look-see."

"On it. I'm in the area now."

Molly explained, "Beau is with the US Fish and Wildlife Service," as the Cessna obediently turned in response to the controls as she added a notch of flaps and reduced speed a bit. Lowering flaps increases the lift provided by the upper wing surface allowing the aircraft to fly at a lower speed without loss of control. She had chosen this particular airplane today because its high wing configuration gave pilot and passengers an unrestricted view of the area below and around them.

Descending to a lower altitude, Molly made a long series of wide, slow S-turns over the densely wooded land, looking carefully for signs of human presence in the wildlife refuge. Then, after a time, through the dense pines, she caught sight of a white pickup truck and four or five surprised faces looking up at them. At almost the same instant a loud  _PING!_  startled the NCIS agents.

 _"BLAST!_ " the pilot exclaimed softly as she jammed power back up, stood on one rudder banking sharply to the right and brought the flaps up, seemingly in one fast fluid motion. The Cessna climbed into the clear sky and streaked away from the area. The abrupt, steep angle of turn gave the three passengers a momentary start but their heart rates slowed after a moment.

"Ground Three. Beau, y'all definitely have new activity down there. One white pickup and several subjects spotted - and Air One took a hit."

"Ya okay up there, Mac?" Concern came through the radio.

"Yeah, we're good. Headed back to the field to let Eddie check it out, though I don't see any fuel streamin' and the gauges are good."

"Sounds good, Air One. And thanks. We 'preciate the help."

"You're welcome, Ground Three. Be careful down there. We know they're armed and up to no good now."

"Gotcha, One. Three out."

Beside her in the copilot's seat, Tim was wide-eyed. "You get shot at much up here?"

Molly sort of half-shrugged it away. "Well, sometimes. Got a lot of bootleggers out here and illegal hunters besides the smugglers - and none of them much appreciate me hangin' around gettin' a good look at 'em. They'd have to be real lucky to do much damage though. I usually fly my plane when I know I'm going to be making uninvited visits to see what I can stir up. It's incredibly nimble and much more responsive than this one. 'Course this one is bigger but even the bigger engine can't compensate for it. I'll take Charlie over any of the others any day!"

"Charlie?"

"Yeah. The tail number, or the registration number, is N8056C – or 56-Charlie in radio parlance; just Charlie to me.  It's like a license plate number but it's painted either on the side or or on the tail."

Back on the ground, Eddie and Molly went over the airplane carefully and found a bullet hole through one wing. Fortunately it wasn't in a critical place and Eddie reckoned that he'd have it patched up within an hour.

Sitting in a small diner a short time later, they discussed the flight. DiNozzo was noticeably quieter than he previously had been.

Gibbs asked him quietly, "You okay, DiNozzo?"

"Yeah, boss. Just taking it all in." Looking at Molly, he said, "You were right. Seeing it on a map, then seeing it 'in person' makes all the difference in the world. There are so many places! How can all of them be watched, much less shut down?"

Molly's voice was soft as she answered, "Agent DiNozzo, I don't think we'll ever be able to shut all of it down. There's just too much opportunity, too much money to be made and nowhere near enough people to put a stop to it. That's where the aircraft come in so handy. Often, if I make a good impression like maybe today, they'll give up on that location and go find another one. If I can keep them busy enough, it cuts down on the number of shipments successfully delivered here. Or keeps the animals safe one more night."

"I think you saw on the map that this area is where interdiction needs to take place. The Coast Guard is constantly patrolling the ocean as well as the river. Sunny Point, the largest military ammo dump on the east coast, is right there on the Cape Fear. Just about all the ammo, equipment, etc needed in the Middle East and elsewhere comes in and goes out right there, so it has excellent security in place around it but so much still remains open and resources just can't cover all of it."

"Across the river in Brunswick County are more swamps, pocosins, and isolated land than just about any other place you could think of. But the Sheriff's office over there has a good handle on it and works closely with us and others. Which is another reason why activity on this side of the river continues to pick up. Of course, the population there isn't nearly what it is here so that makes a difference, too. So, you have any ideas yet?"

McGee seemed to still be airborne judging by the small smile that stayed on his face and the slightly unfocused look in his eyes.

Gibbs just looked at her thoughtfully with slightly narrowed eyes. ' _There's a lot to this woman.'_

DiNozzo shook his head slightly, "This is gonna take some thought," he opined.

"Oh, if y'all find yourselves near one for any reason, do  _not_  go into a swamp by yourselves. Even professionals have gotten lost in 'em and some have died. I can't emphasize that enough. That's not to mention the slight problem you'd have with alligators, snakes, bears, cougars, wildcats and other assorted wildlife."

Gibbs nodded and glanced at his two agents.

McGee asked, "Where are all the others? Will there be a general meeting of any sort?"

Molly answered, "Most are arrivin' today. My boss is supposed to let me know the immediate plans this afternoon. I expect a general meetin' will be tomorrow. If all of us are to work together, we'll have to meet together at least once."

DiNozzo piped up, "Soooo, we really didn't need to be here yesterday, did we?"

With what they were recognizing as her sparkling trademark grin when she was up to something, Molly responded, "Nope. But I wanted y'all to be first in line and on top of the hill before the others even got off the ground. And they don't get a sightseein' trip from the air. You have the edge."

Gibbs' half-smile snuck out before he could hide it. She had had their collective six before they had even met. DiNozzo and McGee just grinned back with the same realization. They were going to get along just fine.

* * *

The next morning, there was a general meeting of all the representatives of all participating agencies and services adding up to a significant number of people filling the large DEA room. People found seats wherever they could whether in chairs or on desks.

When the three NCIS agents arrived, Molly waved for them to join her by her desk where she had secured three relatively comfortable chairs for them and three large mugs of steaming coffee awaited them. Gibbs could hardly suppress a grin while McGee and DiNozzo made no effort to hide their pleasure. Other agents seated around them cast jealous glances at the cups of coffee that smelled so good, wondering how those three rated such hospitality.

The DEA Division Chief, John Carson, introduced himself and welcomed everyone, thanking them for coming, etc. Then the Assistant Division Chief, George Langford, lowered a huge map like the one Molly had gone over with them and said pretty much what she had told them and discussion began on how interdiction of the size of this operation could best be handled. Everybody had a different opinion.

After listening for a while, a frown appeared on McGee's face. He had thought a lot about this situation and it seemed simple to him. At last he stood and made his suggestions.

"McGee, NCIS. Most of the coastal activity will of necessity depend on the tides which are a known quantity. Seems that if we concentrate our focus on likely sites of activity only when the tides are about right, that would free up people to cover other areas during the "down" time."

Someone commented and asked, "Yeah, but how can we keep track of all the tide times? Too many people moving around, if you ask me."

McGee responded, "A computer can easily keep track of all that and can be programmed so that all agents and agencies can have instant access through either computers, smartphones or whatever. Once we have that foundation established, teams can be assigned to both coastal observations and inland observations. All neatly organized and precisely executed."

There was silence in the room and Tim felt his cheeks and ears turning red. Then someone from the Army CID said, "It sounds like a clear, concise plan – but is there a program available to handle that?"

McGee cleared his throat in his growing embarrassment and answered, "Ahh - there wasn't so I wrote a program for it last night. I've already entered the tide times so all it needs is the names of who goes where."

Gibbs could have busted his buttons with pride for his probie agent. With a quick glance at DiNozzo Tim took in the wide grin on his face with relief. The other agents discussed the pros and cons of the implementation of this plan and then it became a matter of jockeying for position to see who was assigned where.

McGee did some things on his laptop, then withdrew a flash drive that now contained the program and plugged it into Molly's desktop computer which was connected to the DEA mainframe. Now each agent could access the program and see what areas were available.

DiNozzo asked his team leader very quietly, "What section do we want, Boss?"

Gibbs hesitated then said, "Not sure. Don't want us to be tied down to one place."

McGee grinned, his green eyes sparkling, and said, "Ah - Boss, I've already put us into a primary slot. We'll be functioning as agents-at-large and will cover both where needed and at sites of actual activity. I – uh, thought you'd like that better."

Voice very quiet, Gibbs responded with more than a trace of a smile, "Good work, McGee. Ya did good."

Tim tried to keep his pleased expression under control but nothing would hide the slight glow of his face.

Molly had kept quiet during the hours the meeting had taken, just sitting back observing. She liked this team from DC. She had good first impressions of them from her years as an investigator. They seemed to share a deep bond of some kind – probably formed from the nature of the work they did – and reminded her of a father with two sons.

This Gibbs was an older man whose silver military haircut and mesmerizing blue eyes in his smooth face made him quite handsome. He could say a lot without speaking a word with nothing more than his eyes and minute changes of the expressions of his face or tilt of his head.

She was a little startled to realize that there just was something about him that attracted her. Not only was it totally unprofessional of her, she wondered about their age difference. In spite of the silver hair, she would guess that he was only somewhere around fifty, give or take. And she would have her thirty-first birthday in a few months. Hmmm.

Tony DiNozzo was an interesting man, probably somewhere in his late thirties, early forties. On the surface he first appeared shallow, but it didn't take long for her to see beneath that misleading exterior he presented to the world at large. And he had the most amazing green eyes that sometimes almost appeared to be blue. With his tall build, good looks and perfect smile, she imagined that he'd be quite popular with women - and vice versa!

McGee was the youngest of the three, she'd guess early thirties, mid-thirties at most. Clearly he was extremely intelligent as was evidenced by the computer program he had written overnight, yet he appeared to lack self-confidence. He seemed to have an almost boyish, quiet personality that was refreshing and charming.

He delighted her with the thrill he experienced during their flight. He was completely captivated with it and his uncomplicated happiness with flight made her smile. She loved sharing the magic of flight with others and couldn't wait to take him up in Charlie and let him handle the controls.

McGee also had green eyes (is this a requirement to be on this MCRT?) but his were a different shade from those of DiNozzo. His light brownish-blonde hair fit his lighter coloration perfectly whereas Tony's darker hair and deeper coloration reflected his Mediterranean heritage.

Gibbs stood at about six feet – maybe six one, DiNozzo and McGee were about even at probably six-two or so. Three different men, each with a different personality, each with his own distinctive style, each very handsome and appealing in his own way, none lacking in intelligence or devotion to his chosen career. Fascinating people.

The stirring of the others and the sound of chairs sliding back broke her from her reverie and contemplations of her assigned companions.

She smiled at the three and asked, "Is there anything important I should know about? I completely zoned out!"

DiNozzo laughed and answered, "No, I think Tim had everything taken care of before it even started. Way to go, McGeek!"

Tim blushed but appreciated his senior teammate's acknowledgement of his work.

Molly commented with a light chuckle, "You have a lot of nicknames, don't you? I'm glad mine is so simple. Can't be messed up."

The senior agent snorted and muttered softly, "Oh, you don't know DiNozzo. 'Messed up' is his middle name."

Out of the corner of his eye, Gibbs had noticed MacKenzie studying him and his team during the meeting. He wondered what she thought. Of him. Then he realized that his thoughts had no place here and the very notion was improbable enough that he knew he should forget about it anyway.

DiNozzo ignored his boss and asked her, "Where will you be in all this?"

"I suppose when I'm not flyin', I'll be with y'all. When I'm called out, maybe Agent McGee could go with me. Get some valuable experience on the aerial side of this business?"

Gibbs gave his youngest agent a long look as McGee's hopeful green eyes begged to be allowed to go. Finally the ex-Marine grunted a quiet, "Why not."

Molly held her hand up, palm out and McGee slapped it with his own hand, grinning like a kid having all the Christmas presents to himself.

Tony spoke up. "What about me, Boss? I can use the extra experience, too," he whined.

Gibbs sighed as he gave his Senior Field Agent a long-suffering glare before finally relenting, "Alright, you two take turns."

"Yes!" Tony exclaimed with a fist pump, then held his own palm out for a high-five.

Gibbs shut his eyes and muttered, "Why do I feel like I'm runnin' a daycare center?"

* * *

~ Continued ~

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1 part 1: Beginnings

* * *

 

Long days and nights were spent in unending, boring stakeouts, attempts to gather intel and waiting, lots of waiting, ready to pounce at the first sign of smuggling activity. Tim and Tony loved flying – but only in daylight. Night flying of the type required for this operation wasn't for the uninitiated.

Sleep was to be had wherever and whenever possible. Molly dragged out an old quilt that she folded in half and caught naps on the chilly hangar floor at times. Flying was second nature to her but it still required at least a few brain cells to be awake and functional for it to be safe.

From the air, she kept tabs on where suspicious gatherings of either people or vehicles were located which would then be checked by teams on the ground. To further keep the druggies off balance, every time she'd return to the field for fuel, she'd change aircraft; the criminals thought there were several aircraft looking for them, adding to their stress.

Gibbs' team slept at their hotel when they could but not enough to get rested. Usually they got a short nap, a shower, then right back out to renew their acquaintances with the Carolina insect population that occupied lonely places in woods, by the edges of swamps, in isolated coves, etc.

But the feds weren't the only people watching and waiting. Dark eyes peered out of dark places during the night, making timely reports to their masters. Unobtrusive eyes watched during the day as unnoticed people went about menial jobs.

The druggies believed they had hit pay dirt when several Latino women successfully gained employment to clean rooms at a certain beach resort hotel. The rooms of the federal agents got very close attention and tiny little intruders were placed in various places in each room that allowed all conversations to be monitored and recorded. The ladies were well paid for their time and effort though not necessarily by their employer of record.

Though the MRCT had spent a little time in their rooms after the devices were planted, there were no conversations of any importance recorded because the three usually showered, fell into bed for a couple of hours, then were right back up and out again.

Neither were any of the few papers left behind of any help and the laptops were secured with complicated passwords and encrypted firewalls. The powerful man who had paid to receive this information was not happy. He decided that other measures would be taken. He could play this cat-and-mouse waiting game for a while but he very much needed to get his far-flung business back in full operation. He was losing millions and that made him  _very_  unhappy indeed.

What the interlopers didn't know is that Gibbs and his team had set out devices of their own and deliberately left misleading information where it could be found. Later, those papers were overnighted to Abby who checked them for fingerprints and other evidence.

Molly finally took time to go to her little home to shower and actually sleep for a change. Her trusty jeep bumped and bounced down the long, long dirt track that led to her cottage. The headlights jumped all around as each turn of the tires found new ruts, dips and holes to traverse. She was used to it and didn't mind. It helped discourage curious uninvited visitors. Certainly no one would risk taking a regular automobile through it unless absolutely necessary.

Normally her only visitors had four feet and those visitors knew they were safe around her. Even Roger, her big black-and-brown retired military working shepherd, knew not to bother them. It was an ideal place for her; quiet and peaceful, secluded and private. She felt she could completely relax here away from all the stresses of her job and the criminal element she had to deal with. This place was her sanctuary.

She parked the jeep and responded to Roger's enthusiastic welcome. All she'd have to do was stand still for a minute and he'd have her licked clean from head to toe. Inside, she refilled his food bowl and the large container of fresh water that was always available to him, then decided that a cup of hot tea would be exactly what she needed. Putting water on to boil, she went through the small stack of mail she had stopped to pick up from the nameless old mailbox beside the main road.

Nothing of any importance there, so she just sat in a big overstuffed chair in the living area and rested a moment. It felt strange to sit back and just chill and it was ever so welcome! Everyone had logged some long hours this past week.

As she was going to the kitchen to make the tea, Roger, who had been following, suddenly stopped with a deep but very quiet growl in his throat to warn his human, the thick ruff of fur around his neck standing straight up. Quickly killing the light in the kitchen, Molly drew her service weapon and sank to her knees below window level.

Keeping an eye on Roger, she followed his eyes as his sharp ears pinpointed exactly where the danger was located and where it moved to. Judging by the big dog's reactions, it was likely just one or two people and she wanted to know who, what and why.

Sending a silent a hand signal to the dog, she slipped out a door on the opposite side of the house from which Roger was focused. Sinking into the deep night shadows cast by the tall Carolina pines surrounding the cottage, barely breathing, the DEA agent listened intently. Just as she thought to move, she detected two very soft, low voices speaking in Spanish toward the front of the cottage.

She decided to stay where she was for the moment because they obviously didn't know she had left the little house, giving her the advantage of surprise. The two intruders seemed to be debating whether to break into the house or not. Her Spanish wasn't perfectly fluent but she caught the words "ella está en la ducha" which she took to understand that they thought she was in the shower. Excellent!

The pair eased up onto the long, wide porch and began fiddling with the front door, still softly murmuring at each other. These two were clearly somewhere on the lower end of the food chain. Easing around to the front of the cottage, Molly got into position, weapon drawn and pointed at the pair in a double-handed grip, then yelled "FREEZE! FEDERAL AGENT!"

Jerking around in total surprise, one of the two Latinos dropped a set of picks he'd been working with as his partner fired off several rounds at her as they jumped the side railings of the porch that spanned the full width of the little cottage and fled into the darkness of the surrounding dense forest. She had returned fire when she was being shot at but stopped as soon as it was clear that they were fleeing. She wouldn't shoot anybody in the back.

Back inside the house, Molly was surprised to feel something running down her left side. Turning on the light in the kitchen, she discovered that one of the gunman's shots had grazed her upper left side and that whole half of her blouse was now bright red. Making sure that the house was securely locked, she adjusted the shower knobs and had a long hot shower, hoping that much of the weariness of the past week would join the dust and dirt now swirling down the drain. The pain from the water on the wound made her ears burn and ring.

Out and dried off, she put a large clean gauze bandage over the wound as best she could and put on the oversized tee shirt she slept in. She was surprised that she hadn't felt the injury when it happened. She took two aspirin to deal with the pain and hoped that would suffice. After she settled in bed with her cup of tea, she dialed a number.

"Yeah...Gibbs," he answered softly.

"Y'all in bed yet?"

"What's up?"

"Thought I'd better let you know that I had visitors tonight. Keep an eye out for yourselves and check the cars real good before you start out in the mornin'."

Now sitting up on the side of the bed, Gibbs asked sharply, "What happened, Molly? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Just a scratch." Then she filled the team leader in on details. "It's the first time anybody has ever been here. Guess they followed me at some point."

"Where are you?"

"In bed with a good cup of hot tea."

"Nooo. Where is your house?" His exaggerated tone of voice was one used when talking to a very young but not-too-bright child.

"Gibbs, you'd never find it unless I showed it to you. There's nothin' on the highway except an old unmarked mailbox that could fall over any day now."

"Don't make me ask again!  _Where are you?"_  the Senior Agent demanded.

Wow. She had never heard this side of Gibbs before. "Gibbs, I'm fine! I'll see you in the mornin'."

There was no response, but she could hear things rustling. "Molly, I'm dressed. Do I have to call your boss to get a location on you?"

"Oh, for Pete's sake, Gibbs! I just called to warn you. I've had worse than this before; it's no biggie. Go to sleep. I'll see y'all in the mornin'." And she hung up. Finishing the tea, she put the empty cup on the bedside table and slid down under the covers. With a sigh, she fell into an exhausted sleep.

Sometime later, she awakened when Roger, in his usual sleeping place beside her bed, started that low, menacing rumble deep in his throat again and pawed at the bed to get her attention. She put her hand on his neck and felt the thick heavy ruff standing straight up.

Whispering, she spoke to him, "What's up, Rog? We got more visitors sneakin' around out there?"

She slipped out of bed with a grimace at the pain in her side and quickly pulled on a pair of jeans, picked up her service weapon, then slipped silently out the side door. She could hear low voices but not what was being said. She crept to the corner of the house and quickly peeked around it to get an idea of who and how many. In that one fast glimpse, she made out three figures but didn't know if there were more she hadn't seen in that second and a half.

Swallowing, she took a deep steadying breath then swung around to face the intruders as she yelled, "FREEZE! FEDERAL AGENT!"

Three figures spun around to face her, then DiNozzo complained, " _Jeez,_  MollyMac! How 'bout not sneaking up on us like that! Especially since we're on a mission of mercy here."

Weapons lowered and heart rates returning to normal, Molly asked with exasperation, "What on _earth_  are y'all doin' here?" Then glaring a Gibbs, she growled, "You didn't.  _Tell_  me you didn't!"

Gibbs sort of shrugged and responded reasonably, "You wouldn't tell me. Had no choice."

" _Good grief, Gibbs!_   He's not real happy with me to begin with! Now you've just given him more ammo to make it even worse."

She sighed, stuck her Sig into the band of her jeans and shook her head slightly, then said, "Wait a minute. I'll go around and unlock the door. What time is it, anyway?"

McGee answered, "A little after three."

She shook her head again as she rounded the corner of the house headed back to the side door, muttering, "Well, so much for a good night's sleep."

Unlocking the front door, she waved them into her cottage. It was a sturdy place and as comfortable as a favorite old sweatshirt, the one that always made you feel warm and secure. The living area was dominated by a large stone fireplace surrounded by a sofa and several easy chair/recliners with lamps on tables that would make any of them a good place to relax and read a book.

An open floor plan led straight into an eating area and kitchen that was surprisingly well-equipped in spite of its relatively modest size. Off to the side of the kitchen was a mud room with a half bath, a washer and dryer and the side door Molly had used earlier. Further back off the kitchen was a short hallway that led to two fair-sized bedrooms, each with its own private bath.

Molly had lived here since she was six years old and loved the old homestead dearly. Her beloved grandfather had built this place out of logs with his own two hands and his calm steady presence seemed to have been built right into it.

Molly's mother had died from cancer when Molly was only three. At age six, she was finally removed from her father's custody and placed into the care of her maternal grandparents who raised her from that point onward.

Unable to deal with his wife's illness and death, Molly's father became an alcoholic. A very mean alcoholic who somehow managed to blame his small daughter for everything wrong. Not long after she moved here with her grandparents, her inebriated father wrapped the car he was driving around an ancient oak tree and died at the scene. She didn't remember that much about her mother but she remembered her father all too well.

The only happiness she'd ever had was here in this house with the kindest people she'd ever known. Her grandmother taught her to cook, sew, keep house, Southern manners, genealogy and hospitality while her grandfather taught her the finer points of woodworking, weaponry, hunting, tracking and fishing. There couldn't have been a better, happier childhood anywhere in the world.

All of Molly's keepsakes and mementos of them were here, including priceless old photos, the family Bible and other books. She also had a rather awesome collection of aircraft magazines, models of airplanes on the shelves in her bedroom, framed copies of her various licenses and ratings, and photos of her throughout her childhood and years of flying.

Sitting at the kitchen table with coffee she had brewed, she glared at Gibbs. "I really wish you hadn't called Carson. He's gonna give me a hard time."

"He doesn't care if one of his people gets hurt?" Gibbs asked quietly.

"I don't know about the others but not this one. He doesn't think women belong in this job and he's done everything he could get away with to make life difficult for me so I'd quit."

"Where did you get shot?"

"I didn't get shot."

One brow arched above the other.

"Just – shot  _at_."

Brow arched higher and Gibbs' head tilted a touch to the side.

"Well, kinda close, maybe. Scraped the skin off, feels like a rib got bruised. It'll be okay. Sure not worth y'all gettin' up, wakin' my crabby boss and comin' here!"

Noticing the fresh red now staining almost the entire side of her shirt, Gibbs stood and held out his hand to her. She looked at it then at his face, confused. "What? Where are we goin'?"

"You're going to show me that wound. Those can be worse than you think. Safer to check."

Molly's mouth dropped open. "You're – you're gonna  _what_?"

"It's still bleeding. A lot. So either let me check it or we go to a hospital to get it checked." His blue eyes didn't waver or blink as he held her stare.

Molly's mouth moved but she was too stunned to answer. After a moment, her shoulders dropped a little and she turned on her heel and stalked off toward her room. The Senior Agent's expression had told her it was a losing battle to protest.

She pulled her shirt up just far enough for him to loosen the bandage she had tried to put on it and looked at the long ugly furrow the bullet had left. It was angry red and still bleeding a great deal more than she realized and, as he touched the underlying rib, she was unable to prevent a wince.

"Fine, huh?" he asked in his soft, breathy way of speaking at times. Gibbs gathered the supplies he needed from her bathroom to properly bandage the wound.

"Wish Ducky was here," he muttered to himself.

"Who's that?" Molly asked.

"Dr. Mallard, our ME back in DC. He's real good at keeping us patched up. You could use a few stitches."

"No, Gibbs! Don't even think about it! No stitches!"

"It'll leave a lot smaller scar."

"Doesn't matter. Not like anybody's goin' to see it anyway."

Gibbs just glanced up at her for a second, brow raised, slight smirk playing around his mouth.

The thicker pads of gauze felt much better than the one-handed thing she had tried to apply. Looking up a the tall agent, Molly was a bit embarrassed as she said softly, "Thanks, Gibbs. That does feel better."

He just nodded and slightly tipped his head to the side for a second. After Gibbs left her room, she put one a clean shirt, collected the old bloody bandage material and took it to the kitchen trash can.

Tony whistled quietly. "Looks like it's a little more than a scratch, MollyMac."

Gibbs snorted and retorted under his breath, "Look who's talking!"

Unabashedly, his Senior Field Agent just grinned, "Point, Boss."

Seeing her wince when moving and keeping her left arm carefully guarding the injury, Gibbs' asked, "You good to fly tomorrow?"

"I sure hope so. I don't need Carson on my case about that, too."

Tony commented, "You need a Bayer or two."

Molly stopped still, studying Tony's face in confusion with slightly narrowed eyes. Finally she asked, "Tony, why do I need more bears? The woods are full of 'em now!"

After a second of silence, the three men burst into laughter at her translation of the word into Southern-speak.

Still chuckling, Tony told her, "Not bears, Bayers. You know, aspirin."

Molly blushed then muttered at them, "Y'all need to learn to speak Southern."

Returning to the subject of her boss, Tim asked, "How long have you been working for Carson?"

"I signed on and went through FLETC about a year before he transferred in to replace the previous chief who retired. That was about seven years ago." She looked in the distance and added softly, "A long, long time to be alone in a job like this."

"You work without backup?" Tim was incredulous.

"Well, once in awhile one of the guys will – though it is discouraged - so usually I'm out by myself. I'm used to it now. Don't like it but I'm used to it."

The three NCIS agents exchanged serious glances.

Molly asked with a yawn, "Y'all want more coffee or do you want to get another couple hours of sleep. No sense in goin' back to the beach. There's another bedroom, the sofa and those reclinin' chairs are great to sleep in, too."

Her unexpected guests decided that sleep would be good and made themselves comfortable in the recliners and sofa, covered with soft warm quilts retrieved from a well-stocked linen closet.

A little after seven-thirty, the three men woke to the smells of brewing coffee and bacon sizzling in a pan. They straggled into the kitchen in various degrees of wakefulness, yawning and stretching. Eggs, bacon, toast and plenty of coffee chased the cobwebs away.

Afterward, Gibbs walked outside with a coffee cup in hand and calmly studied the setting of the cottage in the thick woods. It was a beautiful and peaceful site, but unfortunately it could be easily watched and approached with relative ease by anyone who didn't want to be seen.

He detected a slight movement through the trees and froze in place. After a moment, a beautiful deer stepped into the clearing with head up, sniffing the air, and tossed a nonchalant glance at the human, then slowly drifted past the front of the cottage and continued into the woods on the opposite side.

Back inside, Gibbs told her, "Met one of your neighbors out there."

In response to her questioning look, he cracked a half-smile and said, "Deer. Good sized one."

With a smile, Molly responded, "They think I'm just a strange-looking deer and are convinced that Roger is just some weird mutant. We've seen deer, some brown bears – don't care for them, black bears, 'possums, raccoons, rabbits, foxes, coyote – don't really like them, either. I can't even remember all the animals that live here. Not many parcels of land this size left in the county. They've all been cut down, chopped up and over-priced cookie cutter houses built on 'em. One more reason I refuse to sell this place."

Gibbs then broached the subject of security with her. "Wouldn't be hard to sneak up on this place, ya know. You ever thought about living somewhere else?" He was seriously concerned about her safety.

Molly sighed before responding quietly, "Yeah, I know, Gibbs, but this has been my home for most of my life. Granddaddy bought eighty acres of land and built this place himself. I don't think I can leave it. I'm too emotionally involved with it to just go. Thank goodness I have Roger. He makes me feel safe, lets me know when anybody is around and he's big enough to be a deterrent to anyone wanting to break in. Besides, I'm armed. If the Sig won't do the job, there are two shotguns and a 30.06 rifle. All loaded."

His expression didn't change and he didn't speak, just a little twitch of his head. What was that supposed to mean?

"You don't talk a lot, do you?"

"When I need to." There seemed to be a hint of a sparkle in his eyes as his expression softened a little.

Molly smiled and noted that this man was a  _very_  powerful presence. Intense. He seemed coiled and ready to strike the very second it was needed. She decided that he must have a huge magnet somewhere inside that was insistent on drawing her to him. It was hard to resist but she knew he'd probably leave in disgust if he got any hint of her personal interest or his effect on her.

She thought back to her grandfather. He too had been big and strong and even after she grew to adulthood, she felt comfortable, safe and protected when she was with him.

Oh, how she had enjoyed being with him fishing or hunting. Even when she was a child, he talked to her as if she was an equal, like an adult. In the evenings, she loved sitting with him in front of the fireplace and listen as he and grandmother told her of their early days, their meeting and courtship, of people they knew. There weren't enough words to tell how badly she still missed them. They had saved her life and had given her a warm loving home. How could a person ever adequately thank someone for doing that?

Tony interrupted her thoughts. "Hey, earth to MollyMac! Helloooo!"

"Oh! Sorry. I was - thinkin' about my grandparents."

Tim was playing with Roger who was nearly beside himself with all of the attention he was getting from these new humans.

Dishes washed, house put back in order, morning grooming attended to, the go-bags were put back into the agency sedan as Gibbs checked in with the headquarters group. Told that everything was quiet, they could just hold back a while if they wanted. All areas were currently covered.

Gibbs told them that since his team hadn't had a break for more than a week, he was pulling them from the roster until tomorrow.

Tony and Tim smiled with relief. A break would definitely be welcome.

Molly piped up, saying, "Hey, y'all want to go to the airport? Maybe you can begin to learn a little more about flyin'."

The two more junior agents were enthusiastic and eager to give it a go while Gibbs just seemed to go along with the idea. "You up to flying?" he asked, those blue eyes squinted in concern.

"I guess I'll find out," she answered with that irrepressible grin.

* * *

~ Continued ~

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Carolina Connection: Book 1 part 1 chapter 4

* * *

 

 

At the airport, they walked to the big hangar where Charlie, a little fore-and-aft two-seater, was housed and Molly showed them how to push it out onto the ramp without hitting any of the other aircraft since her injured side wouldn't allow her to exert herself to that degree.

Out in the sunshine, her face shaded by a dark blue DEA ballcap and sunglasses, she first very slowly walked them around the little airplane, naming every part and its purpose. A quick lesson taught them the importance of the camber of the wing, the flaps and how each affected flight. None of them had really given any thought of all the things that go into giving any aircraft the ability to defy gravity and fly through the sky.

"There are four things you must never run out of: airspeed, altitude, fuel and ideas," she told them. "Some aircraft are so forgivin' they can just barely kill you."

Eyes sparkling, Molly said with a grin, "An old guy who used to fly here once told me, 'Try to stay in the middle of the air. Do not go near the edges of it. The edges of the air can be recognized by the appearance of ground, buildings, sea, and trees. It is much more difficult to fly there.'"

  
Even Gibbs found his interest captured and enjoyed listening, gaining knowledge for himself in the process. You never know when something like this will help a case. He chuckled to himself watching Tim and Tony absorb all this. He had no doubt that each of them could repeat back every word she had spoken. Molly had such an easy natural way of talking about everything, she taught without any effort – and her students learned easily by simply paying attention and listening.

When they had a firm picture in their minds of what every piece of the airplane would be doing in flight and why, she showed them how to do a thorough pre-flight. A lineman with one of the fuel trucks filled the tank, the oil and everything else was checked, and they were ready to go - they thought.

Molly grinned. "No, the airplane is ready, but the pilot is not. The weather here looks great, but what is around us that we can't see yet?"

They entered Mike's operations building, were given a hearty welcome, then Molly showed them where the Met info was kept, how to read that and the station reports. Tim got it immediately. It looked like lines of code that he was used to working with and it made perfect sense to him.

Tony, not so much.

Gibbs?  _Ha!_  He had simply snorted.

Fuel slip signed, weather checked, aircraft checked, Tim was ready to go for his first lesson. Gibbs and Tony quietly watched their probie's face. He was in heaven as he was directed to sit in the single front seat of the Supercub, while Molly sat in the seat behind him. The airplane had dual controls so it could be flown from either position.

Molly carefully explained what the radio shorthand meant so he would understand it as the air traffic controllers spoke to them. She talked him through the engine start and explained what each instrument told him about the engine's performance.

Cleared to taxi, she told him to lightly rest his feet on the rudder pedals on the floor and follow her movements that would control Charlie as they taxied out to the active runway. Cleared to take-off, Tim followed her on his set of controls as she continued to tell him what she was doing and why.

Outside the office, Mike turned on a radio tuned to the frequencies Molly would be using so the other two agents could listen in as they watched.

Now flying parallel to the beach at two thousand feet, Molly let Tim have the controls for the first time. Once he began to understand the principles of keeping the little airplane straight and level, she talked him through a gentle turn to the right, then a turn to the left so they were again skirting the coastline. Climb a little then descend a little back to two thousand. Then she just let him experiment a bit and learning the "feel" of the airplane responding to his commands.

After roughly thirty minutes, Molly turned back toward the airport, called the tower and was given landing instructions. Again, Tim's instructor explained everything that was happening and why and had him follow her movements on the controls as she entered the traffic pattern and finally brought the little plane gently back to earth again.

Shutting down on the ramp, Tim and Molly got out of the airplane to be greeted by two grinning fellow agents. Tim was absolutely vibrating with excitement; he could barely talk.

A smiling Gibbs finally told him, "Breathe, Tim! Just slow down. Breathe!"

Tony laughed and grabbed him up in a big hug. As much as he himself would enjoy learning to fly, in no way could he ever match the probie's total enthrallment with it.

Tony went up on the same initial instruction flight as Tim – and he was excited and happy with the experience but he was right; couldn't even come close to that of McGee.

Molly presented both of them with brand new pilot logbooks and showed them how to the enter the required information and signed both books as their certified flight instructor for these first flights.

Tim went back out and slowly walked around Charlie with a shining face, gently running his hands over its surfaces, remembering every word he had heard from his instructor. Tim was in love. With flying.

That evening, the quartet had a quiet dinner at the hotel, then went for a walk on the beach. For the first time, Molly opened up to the other agents about her reservations concerning leaks she strongly suspected within her own organization and the reasons why.

"But I can't bring it up to anyone. As the only woman in this office, I've been effectively shut out and have to work on my own. I honestly don't know who to trust. It's – it's a sad situation. I wanted so badly to be able to do somethin' that was really meaningful, that would be good, but now - - I dunno. Maybe I was too optimistic."

Gibbs asked quietly, "Is there someone over the division chief who would listen?"

"I don't think so. The regional chief is good friends with Carson. I'd be afraid to trust him. I've thought so often about the whole situation and have been tempted to quit. I can always give flight lessons full time, maybe. But I just don't want to let them win. Too stubborn, I guess."

"Why not another law enforcement position?"

"I've thought of that, too, but ... "

The group walked quietly for a time, then headed back to the hotel. Molly decided she'd go back home and go to bed early.

Gibbs reminded her, "I gotta check that wound. It's not as minor as you want to make it."

"Oh, come on, Gibbs! I can fix it. Y'all go on upstairs and get some rest. I'll see ya in the mornin'. I think we'll probably have a stakeout since we were off today."

Gibbs just stood there, arms crossed, unmoving, silent, head ever-so-slightly tilted to one side, staring at her with what could have been a slight smirk on his face.

Molly looked at Tony and gestured toward his boss. "Is he always like this?"

Tony laughed. "Yeah. Pretty much."

Gibbs decided to ride with Molly in her jeep as the others followed in the agency sedan. There wasn't a lot of conversation on the ride over, but the Senior Agent finally commented on the rutted, bumpy track leading back to her cottage. "Pretty rough ride."

Molly shot him a look and responded a little curtly, "It's one reason I drive a Jeep. I like it this way.  _Usually_  discourages uninvited visitors."

Gibbs chuckled softly and held on as the tough little jeep slowly made its way through the potholes, craters and other assorted enemies of wheel alignment, springs and struts in an average sedan - like those in the Federal Inventory for agents use. He glanced back and saw headlights bouncing all over the place and chuckled again. Tim would be having a heart attack if that was his own car he was driving.

Pulling up in front of the wide roof-covered porch, Roger dashed out from under the porch to meet her with a level of enthusiasm and energy that would make Abby jealous. The shepherd gave Gibbs one quick nuzzle, then dashed back to his human.

As she started to unlock the front door, she knelt down and examined the bottom edge of the door, then stood and said under her breath, "Somebody's been here." She stepped back from the door and quietly closed the screen door. "I always leave a 'tell' so I'll know if the door has been opened."

She withdrew her Sig from the back of her belt and whispered to Gibbs, "Gonna check around. Be right back."

Before she could take a step, a big hand grabbed the back of her belt. "You're not going by yourself. Wait until Tim and Tony get here."

"But I - -" Again those piercing blue eyes stopped her and she shrugged, muttering, "Have it your way..." There may have been something that could have been a reference to a "stubborn ox" but he couldn't be sure. His lips twitched a little as he hid a chuckle.

There was nothing to be found around the house and the four went inside after checking as much as could be checked in the surrounding dense woods.

Inside, one kitchen drawer hadn't been fully closed, a bathroom light had been left on, and Molly's stack of mail from the previous evening was scattered instead of neatly stacked as she had left it. She first checked to see if the rifle and shotguns under her bed had been tampered with. Apparently they hadn't been found.

Molly stood in silence as her fiery eyes swept through her home again. She felt enraged that someone had actually entered her home and had snooped around and through her belongings. Roger sat at her feet, his dark eyes never leaving her face. The shepherd knew what she was feeling and understood why. He had been out in the woods and returned to find a stranger in the house and used his fierce, snarling bark to frighten him away.

She knelt down and wrapped her arms around him, checking him carefully for any wounds or injuries that could be hidden in his thick fur. Finding none, she just held on to him, resting the side of her face against his soft fur for long moments.

"What happened, Rog? Wish you could tell me. Did you run 'em off? I hope you scared 'em real good – but I don't want you gettin' hurt, understand?"

He whined and licked her face as if reassuring her. She stood and started a new pot of coffee. Tony came up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry, MollyMac. I know it's upsetting but at least nothing was damaged and old Roger seems to be in good shape. You want to come back to the hotel with us? McFlyBoy and I can share a room and you can have the spare."

Molly sighed. Somehow she felt uncharacteristically helpless in this situation and she couldn't think how to go about putting a stop to the unwelcome intrusions. She was not a person of inaction. She had had to take care of herself to this point and she never shied away from a fight.

"Thanks, Tony. That's so kind of all of you, but I'll stay here. I won't let them run me out of my home. They aren't even supposed to be on the land! It's posted every six feet around the entire perimeter. Do you have any idea how long it took to post those warnin's around  _eighty_  acres?"

"Unfortunately, it's only law-abiding people who respect things like that."

Molly couldn't explain it: she just wanted to sit down right in the middle of the floor and cry. That realization surprised her. She had  _never_  had such a thought even when she was little more than a baby and trying to deal with her drunken father's rages against her.

"If I don't have to fly tomorrow, would y'all be okay if I didn't go into the field with you? I have an idea I'd like to try."

Tim had joined them in the kitchen. "We'll have to check with the Boss. What are you thinking about?"

"I think I'd like to find a good place out there and just observe. See who may show up and find out what's goin' on."

A quiet but authoritative voice answered, "That's not anything you need to do by yourself either. That kind of surveillance requires a team to be effective."

With a voice filled with worry, exasperation and even a little fear, Molly swung around, "I don't  _have_  a team, Gibbs! I've always had to work things out myself. Just do the best I can with what I have!"

To her surprise, tears wanted to sting her eyes and she bruskly wiped them away. "Sorry, Gibbs. I didn't mean to snap at you. I just don't want – those people – in my home. Or on my property."

She continued in a very small, soft voice, "And – and – it's a little scary to know that they're so close around now."

Gibbs walked over the the small woman and gently hugged her to him. "I know, Molly. It's like an invasion into your personal life but you're  _not_ alone now. You do have a team; you have the three of us. You've helped us enormously; your preparation and knowledge put us way ahead of anybody else. You've covered our six from the first minute. You're part of us now. And we're going to find where that leak is. So – where is your go-bag?"

At first Molly was very uncomfortable taking Tony's room, but the agents truly didn't seem to mind, especially since each room had two double beds - and Gibbs was adamant about it. All three rooms had connecting doors which made it convenient for them to be in contact with each other when wanted or needed.

 

* * *

 

 

They were now ending the fourth week of the joint operation and so far only two relatively small shipments had been captured along with several relatively low-level mules. Not very good for as much man-power that had been fielded.

The day after she moved to the beach, about mid-afternoon, Molly received a cryptic phone call. "Gotta go out for a while. Shouldn't take long."

The DC agents watched as she attached her badge to the belt of her jeans, put creds into a pocket and strapped on her holster and secured her Sig Sauer in it.

As she turned to go to the door, Gibbs was standing in her way, feet apart, arms crossed and that half-smirk on his face. "Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked softly.

Molly quickly ran through her check list and said, "No, I have everything."

Gibbs slightly tilted his head, indicating Roger who was watching her with anxious eyes.

She responded, "Gibbs, Roger is retired. He survived five years in Afghanistan and he deserves to be. I only brought his harness in case anybody wanted to complain about him here, but nobody questions him if he appears to be a workin' dog – which he is – except he's not supposed to be now – which is why he usually stays home – though sometimes he does go with me and then - ."

Gibbs stood there a moment, blue eyes slightly narrowed just looking at her as he interrupted, "Do you know Abby?"

"Who's Abby?"

"Our forensic scientist in DC."

Puzzled, she asked, "Why do ya ask?"

Gibbs grunted a half chuckle, "Nevermind. Where are you going?"

"Meetin' an informant. Hopefully I can get a lead for us." She shook her head in frustration at the situation. "Okay, I'll take Roger if that'll make you happy." He couldn't make out what she grumbled after that. Might have been something about a baby-sitter.

As soon as Molly picked up his harness, Roger stood and didn't move as she fastened it on him. In that one moment, he was instantly back on duty in the Marine Corps. His posture straightened, his ears stayed straight up and bright but serious eyes instantly began surveillance of his surroundings.

Even the three agents took a half-step back from him. This Roger was not the same dog they had been playing with. This Roger was all business – ready to rock and roll, kick ass now, take names later.

So it was that, wearing his military working harness, the beautiful shepherd became Molly's full-time companion, going everywhere with her. Highly trained as he had been, he was a perfect gentleman unless somebody aroused his suspicions or made an attack move, then he could become a hundred and ten pounds of muscled, determined fury equipped with exceptionally strong, sharp teeth. The hotel staff never questioned his presence, carefully being very polite and respectful.

Molly hid her grin. ' _Rog, you'll never know how powerful you really are! Love you, big guy!'_

Ordering Roger to stay in the jeep, the DEA agent went to meet her informant. The meeting was quick and easy. The whispered info seemed to hold promise and bills exchanged hands.

What she hadn't seen was a man stroll along the sidewalk casually until he was beside the jeep. He pulled something from his jacket pocket and knelt down to stick it to the underside of the jeep, but a chilling growl stopped him cold. He backed away from the jeep, looked around and hurried down the street. He muttered to himself, "Damn! Stupid dog! The boss ain't gonna like this."

After the clandestine meeting, she swung by the Federal Building to check on a few things. As soon as she opened the door, Carson's sharp voice bellowed, "Hey, MacKenzie! Get over here!"

Standing before the older man, Molly didn't say a word as he yelled, "What's goin' on with you? You some sorta delicate hot house flower now that has to have help with every little scratch? Huh?"

Molly didn't say a word but Roger, sitting beside her, began a soft little grumble in his throat. He didn't like the threatening, aggressive tone of the man's voice toward his mistress and was ready to move him back.

Carson stopped, just now taking notice of the big dog at her side boring a hole through him with his intense eyes. "You keep that dirty fleabag under control, ya hear me! Doubt you've got enough sense to take care of one of those dogs."

Pulling himself back on topic, he growled, "Don't know what's goin' on between you and those high-falutin', know-it-all Washington boys, but I don't want 'em callin' me at home anymore! 'Specially in the middle of the night!"

Carson took a half-step back, very uneasy in the dog's unrelenting stare and that quiet but terribly intimidating growl. "Where are your reports for the last two weeks, anyway? Ya just can't keep up, can ya, MacKenzie? God, I'll be the happiest man in the county when ya resign, ya know that? I'd think that with people messin' around your place, you'd be glad to get out of here – before it gets dangerous, ya understand."

The entire room had gone silent as Carson's rant had caught everyone's attention.

With a chill in her quiet voice, Molly asked, "How would you know if anyone had been around my place?  _Is that a threat?"_

Realizing that he had dropped the ball, he retorted, "I know a lot more than you may think!" Molly just watched him calmly as he stalked away. Agents from all departments and agencies exchanged glances at his disgraceful conduct.

Molly went to her desk and ran a couple of things through her computer, jotting down a note here and there. George Langford, the Assistant Division Chief, quietly drifted over to her desk and spoke softly, "Mac, I'm sorry, girl. Wish I could do somethin' about that but my hands are tied. Hang in there. Ya do a great job and don't let anybody else tell ya anything different. Oh, and I've got your reports; I know you had them in on time."

Glancing at Roger, Langford asked, "You havin' trouble?"

Molly shrugged and winced as her still-healing side complained about it. "I'm handlin' it. Nobody drives me off my own land or out of my home. And, for the first time, I have a team to work with."

"You get hurt?"

"It's nothin'."

Langford nodded and clapped her on the shoulder, "You need me, give me a call, okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks, George."

Finished with what she had come to do, Molly and Roger left. Roger loved riding in the jeep, especially if his mistress had the top open. Riding, he relaxed and just enjoyed himself, looking around, sniffing the air. Molly pulled out her cell phone and punched in a number. "Where are y'all?"

"We've been working on some things here. Tony's out on an errand. Come on back and let's see what we've got."

"Okay. Be there in a few. And Tony needs a little practice tailin' somebody. He's standin' out like a sore thumb. Tell him to ditch the suits."

With a smile and a chuckle, Molly broke the connection and continued on toward the beach.

* * *

Later that same night, two dark figures met in a relatively isolated place on the waterfront not far from Wilmington's downtown. Voices were low and no lights revealed the faces. One of them seemed to be smoking as they talked.

"What's going on?"

"Joint operation still in progress; should be over soon."

"What about that agent of yours?"

"Still in place, workin' with those Washington boys, but I've got an idea. Hope she'll be gone after that."

"See to it. Losing too much money. Remember when my money shrinks, yours shrinks."

"I got it."

Then they silently went their separate ways, unaware of eyes observing them from only a short distance.

* * *

After supper, the four agents returned to their rooms to talk. Tim had had the foresight to bring a bug sweeper with them from DC and all three rooms were carefully swept whenever they returned.

Fed, watered and out of his harness, Roger was content to lay beside Molly and doze while the humans talked. But whenever someone walked down the hall, his head came up and he stared intently at the door until footsteps or voices faded away.

Tim had tracked down bits and pieces of information that added a few more pieces to the puzzle they were trying to solve. From intel they had gathered, he had determined several places in South America and the Carribean from which Alvada's people launched fast boats loaded with 'bricks' of drugs and had calculated the estimated times of arrival to this area of the Carolina coast. Since the computer genius had previously entered all the tide times, they were given a fairly clear picture of what they might expect and when.

Molly added the things she had learned over the course of the afternoon, much of which coincided with what Tim and Gibbs had worked out, even giving them a more definite area on which to focus their attention and assets.

Her informant told her that word on the street is that an enormous shipment was to arrive shortly. Any number of cars and trucks were already standing by carry loads to certain delivery points throughout North Carolina, South Carolina and Virginia. He had also added that someone was inquiring about her and seeking to recruit some muscle. She omitted this last part from her report to Gibbs.

Because of prior information leaks, the team decided they wouldn't tell anyone until the last possible moment for security purposes.

As they wound up their drug case discussion, Gibbs asked how her visit to the DEA office went. Molly sighed, did that little half-shrug thing before saying, "Nothin' I haven't heard before, Gibbs. Carson absolutely hates my guts. He did let one little detail slip that proved he knew about people messin' around my house. And, he was quite clear that he did not want any further calls from or about me." She sighed, then said, "If I die, I don't even want that man at my funeral – in case he has to show up for appearances sake!"

Her phone rang. "MacKenzie. Yeah. Where? Uh-huh. Okay. Anything else? Could you see who the other man was? Okay. Good work. I owe ya."

Three sets of questioning eyes were looking at her.

"Alvada met with someone near downtown while ago. Don't know who. Apparently, I'm a problem that has to be  _taken care of_ , identified as 'that agent of yours workin' with those Washington boys'."

They were quiet as they considered possible reasons or ramifications of the meeting.

Molly noted with a frown, "Alvada doesn't go anywhere alone; usually meets associates on his boat. And it is somebody from the office. No doubt now. "

Tim agreed. "If Alvada has something big coming down as everything seems to indicate, he might be making a last check before putting it into operation."

Tony nodded. "Sounds about right." He looked at Molly, "I'd sure like to know where that chief of yours was during that time."

"Me, too," she nodded. "If it is him, I want to be the one who puts the cuffs on him. 'Your agent' means it has to be someone in a superior position to me which means either Carson or Langford. My money is on Carson."

Gibbs had watched her eyes during the entire conversation and saw the sadness and anger that had built up in her over the last seven years. Yet, somehow she had managed to keep her radiant smile and good disposition.

The drug business was terribly cut-throat and cruel activity to be connected with. His blood ran cold at the thought of her working alone without backup of any kind. She was aware of the danger yet did it anyway because she wanted to do something "that counts, that is good."

* * *

~ Continued ~

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1 part 1: Beginnings

* * *

 

It was only two nights later that a Coast Guard cutter at sea spotted two speeding boats on its radar and kept the agents updated on their position and heading. Gibbs and Molly had quietly contacted a number of teams to be in place at certain location at a certain time, without giving away much information on what was expected and had swore them to secrecy.

One of the most likely spots was right on the coast where Gibbs and his team had surveilled previously at an isolated spot on the mainland just inside one of the inlets. An old dirt track gave this spot access to a main road and from there to the interstate system only a few miles away. Hidden among and behind the sand dunes, the teams were on their stomachs, peeking over the top through night vision goggles, keeping a low profile so the tall seagrass hid them from presenting a silhouette.

The night was quiet with the exception of the muffled roar of the ocean breakers crashing ashore on the beach well behind them. It was high tide and the inlet and sound waters were at their highest. This would be the target time for a boat to arrive. By the time the boat was unloaded, the tide would begin to turn, sweeping water back out to sea until it reached a full low time. Then the cycle would repeat itself approximately every six hours.

Different teams were hidden all around this spot but there was nothing to give them away. Molly so hoped that they would be successful for a change. Also behind the dunes, lying flat on the sand were sets of lights that would be stood up and turned on at Gibbs' command.

Then the very quiet sound of Spanish being spoken sent chills all over Molly. Yes! This is the place! She exchanged one quick, excited look with Tony with whom she was partnered for this mission. Only a moment later, the sound of extraordinarily powerful but highly muffled engines reached their ears as two big boats navigated the treacherous waters of the inlet and made their way to this quiet little cove on the sound. In her earpiece, she heard Gibbs' very, very soft voice, "Stand by."

They wanted the boats fully anchored in place before they made their move, if possible, but if any one of the teams was discovered, they'd have to go in fighting. There were a lot people on hand to receive this shipment, their vehicles ready to hit the road and be off to their destinations.

The only noise was the quiet tones of Spanish voices giving instructions to others, how much was going where and being checked off carefully made list. The water in the quiet cove lapped against the sides of the sleek, powerful boats as each two-man crew began to refuel from big eight-gallon 'jerry cans' brought by the man in charge of overseeing this delivery.

At last Gibbs' voice ordered the agents, "NOW!"

Pandemonium ensued as agents from so many places suddenly popped up with weapons loaded and pointed right at Alvada's gang. There was yelling, shots fired but nobody really knew which side it was; probably both. Latinos running in a hundred different directions hoping to escape, but at last order was restored with only a couple escaping.

The big battery-powered area lights lit the scene as agents secured the prisoners then unloaded the boats. They could hardly believe the size of this shipment. Alvada was going to be  _very_  unhappy when he received the news. They had not only his drugs, but two of his expensive fast boats and many of those on his payroll who knew their routes and where the drugs were delivered and to whom. This was a real haul!

Tony was busy taking photos of every step taken in the raid, as well as photos of the faces of their prisoners.  
Tim was doing something on his computer and Gibbs was directing all the activity and securing transportation for the prisoners.

This haul was indeed enormous! Molly's head spun just thinking of the street value this shipment would have. Slowly walking around inspecting each prisoner's face, she stopped at one and spoke with some initial amusement at one exceptionally distraught black-haired man seated on the ground with hands imprisoned behind him in plastic handcuffs.

"Ahh. Manuel, isn't it? You want to talk to me?"

He nodded his head vigorously in response. Manuel was terrified. Not of the policia but of Señor Alvada. He had seen this woman around but didn't really understand who she was until now. She would save him. He would tell her everything he knew.  _Everything_. And in exchange, he would be protected, safe from reprisal by the man he feared so badly. Those who fell into Alvada's hands would beg for death before he was finished with them.

Molly took Manuel off to one side near one of the dunes, removed the plastic cuffs to spare him pain in his bloody injured hand, then pulled a compact digital recorder from a small pack she had brought with her and started asking questions. A medic came over, put a fresh bandage on the prisoner's hand and, with Molly's approval, two aspirins.

Both agent and prisoner sat crosslegged in the soft white sand sipping from bottles of water as all details of everything in Alvada's drug empire were freely given. Though she kept her focus on this interview (she didn't like to call it 'interrogation') she was becoming aware that they were bringing down one of the world's largest dealers in drug trade.

She was aware of reports that Alvada was also involved in weapons dealing in the unstable countries of the world and didn't care what he sold to who. Top dollar got the goods.

After more than three hours of quiet questioning, Molly was sure she had most, if not all, of everything they needed. Manuel would be available in whatever place he was held if anything else needed answering. As the interview ended, both Manuel and Molly just sat quietly for a moment, digesting the stupendous impact this was going to have on the entire drug industry. Yes, others would try to fill the void, but an operation with the size and scope of Alvada's took years to build. Many years.

Molly smiled to herself. She wanted to go straight to the marina and inform that smug, pompous tub of greasy lard that his empire was gone. That jogged her thoughts again and told Manuel to follow her. There was no worry about him escaping. They'd have to blast to get him away from them.

She was going to report to Gibbs but when she saw him, his eyes had a sparkle in them and a smile fought to be released. When most everything had been taken care of and more transportation was summoned to haul all the prisoners away, he had quietly stood near by just listening and realized what she was gathering. She grinned and held up her little recorder. "I've got it all."

Gibbs almost shocked her as he grabbed her in a huge hug. She had no more been placed back on her feet when Tony did the same. Tim came up grinning from ear to ear. This whole operation had been more successful than they had even dared to hope.

Gibbs had dispatched two teams to the marina to take Alvada into custody; the yacht and its contents were now federal property. The jail would be full and noisy tonight! He had also called the Coast Guard thanking them for their vital participation and news of the success they had had a hand in making possible.

Then Carson showed up, enraged that he hadn't been notified of the operation. He glared at Molly and bellowed angrily, "I shoulda known you'd be involved in this! You can't do anything right to save yourself, can you? Look at this! Looks like a three-ring circus set up here. MacKenzie, you might have really done it this time! I just might have enough now to finally be able to kick your ass out of the agency and let the rest of us do our jobs. Don't think you've heard the last of this!"

Muttering something about a "stupid bitch", he didn't notice Gibbs, Tim, Tony and many of the other agents edging in closer and closer to the petite woman on whom he was venting. Gibbs stepped in front of her facing the chief, arms crossed, a look that was colder than arctic ice in his eyes.

"You're the Division  _Chief_ , right?" he asked in a deceptively soft voice.

"Yeah!"

"You're supposed to have all facts in hand before making decisions affecting your agents and your agency, right?"

"Well, yeah! What about it?"

Gibbs let loose with a gold-plated, old-fashioned, gunnery sergeant's blistering, scathing response to the now-quivering, slack-jawed chief. Those listening stepped back several steps, no one having the desire to being inadvertently caught in the flack, fallout or friendly fire.

Tony and Tim stood exchanging wide-eyed glances as their boss' verbal assault rose to new heights of grandeur and elegance in terms of military parlance that would be forever enshrined in hallowed halls of Marinedom if only they had witnessed this. Certainly, no one present that night would ever forget it. The name 'Gibbs' was spread far and wide as the story was passed from one to another to another.

When it got quiet again, the only sound was the heavy breathing of the former Marine from the exertion spent in expressing his displeasure with the DEA Division Chief.

Someone in the semi-circular group standing in the darkness around them let out a long, low whistle of intense respect.

The only real disappointment of the night is that Alvada had disappeared from his yacht before the teams of agents arrived. According to statements given by the crew on board, Alvada had received a call only a short time earlier and he had fled the marina in a car he kept at every marina just for that purpose. They did not know where he was going.

So. Someone had warned him just in the nick of time, huh? More suspicious eyes were turned on the Division Chief as the probable leak. They just needed the proof and agents were combing through the beautiful yacht and all the intel they were able to uncover.

Much later when they returned to the hotel, Gibbs' team were too keyed up to go right to sleep. In spite of the late, late hour, Gibbs called Director Morrow to tell him the news. The empire of the biggest dealer on the entire east coast had been brought down and a BOLO had been issued for his arrest.

It wouldn't stop 100% of the drug traffic that had plagued them all, but an enormous portion of it was now gone. This was big, big news that would go all the way up to the President. But that was someone else's job. He and his team had done their's. With Molly, of course.

Sitting quietly, reviewing everything in her mind, it dawned on Molly that they had nothing to connect the chief with Alvada. The traitor was still in place. The face of each person who worked out of this office drifted across her mind. If not Carson, then who?

She looked up to see Gibbs watching her and smiled. "Guess y'all will go back to Washington tomorrow."

Characteristically, Gibbs gave that little half-smile and twitched his head a tiny bit.

Molly laughed and asked, "Was that 'yes' or 'no'?"

"Oh, I guess we'll be around a little longer. Got some loose ends to tie up. And the boys need a little more air time, don't ya think?"

Her smile glowed now. "Oh, definitely!" She grew quiet again and she commented softly, "I'll really miss y'all when you leave. This has been the best five weeks of my career. Thanks to each one of you for your wonderful kindness to me. It's somethin' I won't forget."

Smiling, Tony told her, "We can visit back and forth, MollyMac, and there's email and cell phones, Skype. You won't lose touch with us. McBirdman over there will probably try to find a way to get down here on his lunch breaks so he can fly a little more."

Tim just grinned back at him. Gibbs had watched his quiet agent gain self-confidence day by day since he had started flight lessons with Molly. He walked taller and there were signs of confidence in his stride now. He even spoke a little more firmly, without the hesitation he previously had and the stuttering was gone.

Tony had even shown more of himself, the real Tony who normally hid behind a large variety of masks. He was still restless and full of energy but he seemed to be more connected now than he had before. He allowed others to see his intelligence, his lightning fast wit and humor but he seemed no longer interested in irritating those around him as he did in the past to get attention. It was as if he no longer needed to use the behavior that had been required to get attention in any form from his father when he was a child.

Gibbs wondered about himself. He felt happier inside and, with the one notable exception while confronting the chief, he hadn't felt it necessary to scream at people, especially not his own team. He felt – what would be the word? - freer? inside, almost as if some big knot had been loosened or untied. He sure couldn't find the words, no surprise there, but he knew he felt different. Better. And he liked it.

These last weeks had been extremely busy, they had been short on sleep, they had endured a great deal of discomfort on stakeouts, but they had worked smoothly together, nobody got grumpy or out of sorts. What made this difference?

He looked at Tony, he looked at Tim. Had the changes in his own behavior allowed his agents to relax more and stay focused on their tasks? He couldn't say.

Then his eyes fell on the young woman sitting in their midst, who had done so much right from the beginning to make this assignment successful and as pleasant as possible. How much of these changes were due to her? He couldn't answer that either.

But with deeper thinking of their habits during these weeks, he realized that they had taken a bit of time here and there to just relax – usually at the airport when the boys were having their flight lessons. They ate real food more or less regularly. He chuckled to himself as it occurred to him that Tony hadn't even mentioned a pizza since they'd gotten here. They relaxed and debriefed at the end of the day – regardless of the hour – with each other in an informal setting, usually in one of the three rooms they occupied here at the hotel.

The team leader acknowledged to himself that all of those things combined to make these differences in each of them and the result was undeniably beneficial to them both personally and professionally. When they returned to DC, he was going to see to it they followed this new pattern.

Molly stood saying, "I'm going to take Roger for a short walk on the beach. Anybody want to come?"

* * *

It was late afternoon when Molly packed her small bag and prepared to leave the beach hotel. Knowing that the MCRT would return to Washington made her really sad. It had been so wonderful to work with such a well-trained, knowledgeable team – and she genuinely liked all three agents very much.

She pushed these feelings aside, took a deep breath and walked into the room that Tony and Tim shared with that beautiful smile on her a face. "Well, I guess it's time. I can't tell you how happy I am to have met each one of you. It has been – just great."

Gibbs, sitting in a chair in the corner by the small table, put his cup of coffee down and walked over to her, put his hands on her shoulder. "Molly, you're an outstanding agent. I'll talk to you again before we leave, okay?" A quick hug then he returned to his chair. He didn't want to give himself away now. He'd done a pretty good job of keeping himself in check, he thought.

Tim approached her next and wrapped her in a huge hug. "Molly, you know what you've given me and there is no way I can ever thank you enough for it. You can't be surpassed in all that you've done – both personally and professionally. We'll definitely stay in touch."

Molly's soft brown eyes showed signs of getting watery so he continued, "We have to fly together, right? You have so much more to teach me, I'll be down here as often as I can. That all right?"

She nodded, not quite trusting her voice.

Tony just wrapped his arms around her and held her close a long, long moment before he told her, "You haven't seen the last of us, by any means, MollyMac. You're too special and we want to be with you every minute we can. So count on seeing us again – when we don't have to sit out in a bog somewhere swatting swarms of mosquitoes and other flying things with big teeth!" They smiled as they parted.

Molly picked up her bag and slung it over one shoulder as she reached for Roger's short leash. She looked at each one again, whispering good-byes, then walked to the jeep and stowed her things in the back.

With Roger beside her, she was just putting the jeep into reverse when suddenly someone yelled from the direction of the hotel lobby. "MOLLYMAC! WAIT!"

Tony ran up to her a little breathless and said, "We don't have your email address or your personal cell number. I'm glad I caught you."

Molly smiled and dug pen and note paper from her bag. Writing the information, she felt a little wobbly and took a deep breath.

Taking the paper from her, Tony noticed that something wasn't quite right and asked, "Are you alright, Molly?"

"Yeah. I'm good, Tony. Just feelin' a bit emotional about y'all leavin'. I'll be fine. Y'all drive carefully."

He took her hand and held it for a moment as he just looked into her eyes. Then he kissed the top of her hand and stepped back from the jeep, standing tall. She backed up then slowly started forward as she returned Tony's wave, then turned onto the road back toward the mainland. She needed to stop for some groceries, the cleaners and a couple of other errands before heading home.

Tonight she really needed the feeling of security her grandparent's cottage in the deep woods gave her. She had never been able to verbalize the importance of that place to her. There just weren't enough words. And now she felt a big empty place inside left by the agents she had worked with and she knew the strength and comfort she needed would come to her there.

* * *

Gibbs returned to his own room, made another cup of coffee in the machine that came with the room and wandered out onto the balcony and sat in one of the comfortable chairs sipping it as he gazed at the beautiful scene before him. It was deep twilight but the water was still an amazing mixture of green and blue. He felt like he could sit for hours and watch those big breakers roll in to deposit their white foam at the waterline. Without thousands of tourists present, it was so quiet and peaceful. The empty beach seemed inviting and lonely at the same time.

He realized that the only truly quiet place he could think of in DC was his basement. Nothing like this.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes with a sigh. This felt good. He hadn't realized that he  _needed_  a break like this. His entire team did.

And he thought of the simply amazing woman who had worked with them for these last weeks. He felt a emptiness inside like something inside him was missing. It was unsettling.

Her images floated through his mind – Molly dressed in jeans, shirt and loaded firearm on her hip. That hair shining in the sunlight. An accomplished, focused pilot who was well-trained and experienced. Her face behind those sunglasses showing only that smile. A mischievous grin and sparkling eyes.

Interrogating prisoners without missing a beat. An experienced agent who had developed her own network of confidential informants through the years that she worked alone in one of the most dangerous jobs in the world.

He was going to have to let go of this. Just what he needed: another load of emptiness inside to deal with.

* * *

Tim's thoughts centered around the amazing thrill of flight. Closing his eyes, he could feel the controls of Molly's plane responding to his touch on the control stick. He knew exactly what gauge on the instrument panel was for and could find them more easily now without having to stop and look carefully at each one to find the one he needed.

As he thought about how much he had learned in such a short period of time, he began to realize what an excellent instructor Molly really was.

In the small airplane, he felt as if he could actually reach and out touch the sky. ' _I mean it's right there! You're not isolated in some overstuffed, humongous airplane. You're in it, part of the sky. I could actually feel it!_ ' he thought. ' _Don't know if I can continue lessons in DC or not but I'm not going to let it go. I'll keep at it somehow.'_

Then the unwelcome thought crossed his mind of what the Admiral would think if he knew what his "worthless" son was doing. He sighed. He'd no doubt find some way to disparage this, too, as he had everything else. Well, he just wouldn't think about his father, period! Nothing but sadness there anyway.

After Molly left, a sense of emptiness seemed to fall on the three of them. Tim was going to miss her more than he realized. Not just for flying but for her company, as well. She was a really neat person and being with her was fun. ' _Too bad NCIS doesn't have a branch office down here.'_

Tony was silent, sitting out on his balcony staring at the water, thinking about MollyMac. For such a small, sweet woman she was tough as nails when it was called for. He had been a street cop so he knew what it took to develop a network of informants like she had. To have done that, she had definitely earned her 'street creds'. He held her in very high respect for what he knew she had accomplished. Without any help. He'd like to have that jackass of a boss of hers alone for just five minutes. Would he ever!

* * *

It was well after dark by the time Molly turned the Jeep towards home. Even Roger was ready to be home now. She couldn't stop thinking about the three agents with whom she had worked so closely for more than a month. Great people. She loved their individual personalities. She had even learned how to gently tease Gibbs about what she called his 'face signals'. Well, time to return to earth. By daylight they'd likely be north-bound.

Just as she pulled up to the cottage and got out of the Jeep, she found herself surrounded by wild-eyed men covered with tattoos who were screaming and yelling all manner of obscenities at her in a mixture of Spanish and English as they punched and shoved her around. When she fell, they kicked her viciously, laughing at her, stomped on her back and ribs crushing them. Others were smashing everything they could get their hands on, including her faithful Jeep.

Roger had jumped out of the vehicle, snarling and taking down as many of these madmen as he could. He had experience in fighting humans. Many times in the desolate desert or mountains of Afghanistan, he had been released by his handler to attack someone who was a danger to the handler and his platoon of Marines. But never this many at one time.

He could hear his mistress crying out and tried to make his way to her. His fury knew no boundaries in that effort and eventually he was close to her again, but there were so many of these tormentors!

Several men held her upright as Molly was viciously slapped, punched, kicked – just beaten and battered horribly with hard fists and metal rods of some kind. Hard fists slammed into her stomach again and again. Her entire body was a mass of burning, stabbing white-hot pain.

She must have blacked out periodically because at one point she began to come to in time to vaguely hear someone yell, "That's enough! Out now!"

Released by the ones who had been holding her up with arms secured behind her, she dropped to her knees and dully looked up, trying to see through the one eye that could open a bit. The man commanding these gang members locked eyes with her for a long moment, then he slowly raised a weapon and fired.

She was hit near her collarbone and the pain nearly ripped her in half. Then Roger yelped and collapsed as a bullet tore through him. Barely able to comprehend that her beloved companion had been shot, Molly looked up at the man again, unable to understand why he was doing this.

The man fired twice more, hitting her in the chest. He saw her fall over that damned dog and smiled. He had one more thing to do and he would be done. His "other" boss would be extremely pleased with his work and he was sure there would be a generous reward. He needed it to pay his current gambling debts and he had his eye on a car he wanted.

Picking up one of several large cans of gasoline, he walked around the beautiful log cottage splashing it liberally as he went. Throwing a match on it, he watched with satisfaction as the fire caught and spread quickly. Dousing the Jeep, it too was in flames.  _Now_  he was done. Mission accomplished!

One last look back as quickly he made his way through the woods, there was now an enormous blaze that lit the night sky with its brilliant yellow flames. The crumpled figure on the ground hadn't moved.

He walked quickly until he finally made it back to where his car was parked. He very carefully checked his uniform to be sure there was no visible evidence that tied him to this. He turned the car around and drove down the dirt road that took him back to a highway.

As he drove, he reached for a certain cell phone and pushed some buttons. He smiled when it was answered and said, "It's been taken care of. Yes, thank you, sir. Yes. I certainly will. You're most generous. Thank you. Good night."

* * *

It was still dark when Molly came to a bit and tried to raise her head. Even that small movement sent horrid stabs of ripping pain through her. She groaned as she tried to see if the attackers were gone. That one eye had only the tiniest slit that would open but everything was hidden in darkness.

She vaguely realized on some subconscious level that she was going to die if she didn't get help. Her only hope was if her cellphone had somehow survived and was still in her pants pocket.

Just attempting to move her right arm the short distance to that pocket drew a primal cry that no one could have suppressed. Gasping for breath, unable to hold her head up any longer, she blacked out again.

Sometime later, consciousness tried to creep back in and the word cellphone came to the forefront of the small part of her mind that could function. She didn't know if she could bear the pain she knew would come with the movement but she understood that she had to try. She took as deep a breath as was possible for her, but that brought on a bout of coughing that brought scream after scream as blood began to drip down her chin.

Just  _barely_  conscious, she focused only on the cellphone. Had to get it. Had to get it. She was unaware of the unearthly cries she made as she forced that badly broken arm to very slowly move to her pocket. Working her fingers into the pocket, she felt the smooth case of the phone.

Swallowing as best she could, she now had to reverse the process and not drop the phone. Teeth gritted tightly together, tears flowed down her face as she battled to hang onto this final shred of consciousness.

Molly had no awareness of time. It could have taken minutes or hours to get the phone into position near her mouth. Clumsy, shaking fingers managed to push what she hoped was the right button as she rested the side of her face on Roger's soft furry body. She could hear the phone on the other end ringing but blackness was now overshadowing this last tiny bit of awareness that she had. The phone continued to ring as things grew darker.

* * *

Gibbs got out of the shower and began to dry off when he heard his phone ringing on the bedside table. Wrapping the towel around his middle, he sat down on the side of the bed as he answered, "Gibbs."

No one responded but he could hear some strange sound but didn't understand what it was. He listened for another moment or two, when he just  _barely_  heard his name breathed.

"...Gibbs..." Then there was nothing.

* * *

~ Continued ~

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1 part 1: Beginnings

* * *

 

 

 

Gibbs ran to the connecting door and yelled at his agents, "GEAR UP!  _NOW_!"

Startled awake, Tim and Tony both jumped up, unsteady on their feet, grabbing whatever pieces of clothing their fingers touched first is what they put on. Socks barely made it onto feet before they were jammed into boots. Wallets, creds, badges and weapons in place, the two made it before Gibbs had a chance to yell at them.

Throat just-woke-up hoarse, Tony asked as he blinked blurry eyes, "What's up, Boss?"

Hurriedly rushing around his room gathering his last things, Gibbs answered in a low, very soft but flat voice, "Molly's in trouble."

Mouths set into firm white lines reflected the anger and fear that instantly engulfed them. Gibbs drove the government sedan out of the parking lot with a scream of tires and a roaring engine. None of them thought to look at the time, but that was about the fastest ride they had ever ridden by the time they turned into the rutted track that led to Molly's little cottage.

Gibbs cursed a blazing blue streak as he was forced to negotiate the ruts, holes and dips. As they at last approached, the headlights of the car lit up a scene before them was too heart-breaking to even describe.

Molly's cottage was a black pile of smoking ruins. Even the Jeep, laying on its side, had not been spared. Before the car's engine even stopped, they bailed out raced toward her with hearts in their throats.

At first Gibbs' heart had clutched as he thought she was dead but found a tiny, tiny, thready pulse that told him she was alive, at least for the moment.

She was a bloody mess. Tim was on the phone giving direction instructions to the EMS unit that was even now pulling out of the station. Thankfully, most roads were lightly traveled here at this hour of the morning and the driver could get here at breakneck speed.

Gibbs was softly talking to the unconscious Molly while Tony was applying pressure to the three wounds that had plowed through her right lung. The wound by the collarbone bled but not as freely as the other two though it was steadily filling her lung with blood. The sharp ends of the smashed collarbone were threatening to break through her skin. Her blood loss alone was dangerous, not even taking the extreme trauma of all the other injuries into account on top of it.

It felt like hours before they heard the sound of a siren in the distance, getting closer. Gibbs looked down at Roger with sadness. Molly had lost everything that was important to her. How could he ever tell her?

Then a paw twitched, surprising the Senior Agent. "Tim! Get a blanket. I think Roger is alive!"

The EMS arrived, both cursing the dirt track, knowing that time was of essence. The agents stepped back as they began working on Molly, attempting to get her at least somewhat stabilized before trying to transport her.

One of them had radio contact with one of the ER doctors and information flashed back and forth as the medics had a short-hand language of their own. Having done their best, they got Molly onto the gurney, thankful that lack of consciousness was sparing her the unspeakable pain she would otherwise suffer by being moved. They just hoped she would survive the ride to the hospital.

Having gotten additional assistance from the county sheriff's office, Roger, wrapped in a blanket was dispatched with a deputy to an excellent animal hospital the department used for their own dogs that was equipped for just about any emergency and surgery required and staffed 24/7 with well-qualified vets. If there was any way possible, they'd bring the shepherd back to health again.

The three agents bounced and swerved their way back to the main road and tore off toward the hospital. Their badges got them into the Emergency department but there wasn't room for them to be with Molly in the cubicle as doctors and nurses hurriedly busied themselves doing who-knows-what in trying to save her life.

As they stood helplessly watching the seemingly frantic activity, an orderly directed them to a washroom where they could clean as much blood as possible from themselves and their clothing. They were given scrubs to wear if they wanted.

When they hurried back to their observation point, IVs and blood were being administered as the doctors continued to work as quickly as they could.

Molly needed to be in surgery as fast as possible, but she had to be a lot more stable than she was at the moment. She was drowning on her own blood. There were so many things that had to be dealt with immediately.

Her blood pressure was dangerously low, her heart was working hard but the tremendous amount of trauma her body was trying to deal with was nearly too much. Medications were sustaining her to a certain point but they were good only for a limited time.

Additional doctors were called as the cubicle holding Molly became so crowded the nurses could barely get through to do whatever they had been ordered to do by the doctors.

Finally, it was decided that they would take her up to the surgical suite and continue to work on her there where at least there was more room for them to work in. And, if they could get her stable enough, the surgeons could operate immediately try to stop the internal bleeding that was draining her life away. If.

The three agents had no choice but to sit in the hated uncomfortable plastic chairs in a small waiting area outside the operating room. Nurses rushed in and out carrying things the agents couldn't identify. When one young man ran to the OR carrying several bags of red blood, the intensity of their worry magnified. And no one had even a moment to stop to tell them what was happening.

Then a little later, a harried nurse hurried from the OR and approached the three, asking, "Do any of you have a blood type with a negative designation?"

Tony and Gibbs spoke up. The nurse pointed to an orderly coming down the corridor and said, "Go with Harry, please. He'll take you to the blood donor center. Please hurry." Then she disappeared into the OR once again."

Trotting, they reached the center where a phone call had the department standing by to receive them and after a moment to fill out required donor papers, the technicians began the process of receiving blood.

Tony and Gibbs exchanged a look of shared anxiety. This situation didn't look good at all.

One nurse walked past and told another one closeby, "People are responding to the PSA and should be arriving any time. All of the negative collections go straight back to the lab to be checked. From there, it'll be taken directly to OR. Apparently they need all they can get."

Tony and Gibbs looked at each other again, their faces paler. Tony squinched his eyes tightly closed as a chill of fear shook him.

A nurse noticed his distress and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay, sir? Are you having pain? Lightheadedness or confusion?"

He managed to croak out, "No. No trouble." He pointed to the bag of blood he was in the process of giving. "That – that's for – a friend. Not doing well."

"I'm so sorry. Is there anything you'd like to drink when it's finished?"

He shook his head slightly as he more or less muttered, "Unless you've got something that can bring someone back for the brink of – of death."

She patted his shoulder gently as she very softly responded, "I wish I did. I'd so gladly give it." Sweeping her hand in a wide gesture at the donor center, "Being here is the best I can do to help people."

As they laid back in their reclining seats while their own blood was being taken, they saw more and more people coming in, being thanked for coming so quickly and hastily being taken to one of the many reclining chairs in this place.

Gibbs muttered quietly, "They must have put out some kind of appeal for all these people to rush in like this."

Tony just nodded, hoping there was enough to keep that beautiful young woman alive until the surgeons could repair her injuries.

Gibbs' face could have been carved from stone and he was unnaturally pale. This couldn't happen. It just couldn't happen. He'd give his own life if it would keep her alive. He had to see those eyes sparkle again and hear that soft voice.

Meanwhile, Tim's anxiety was rising to the point that he was stuttering again and could barely respond to the latest update on Molly's dire condition:  _'They are making progress but still have a long way to go. The doctors are hopeful.'_

Was Alvada behind this? He sure seemed like the most obvious one but it would take investigation to find the answer. Whoever it was better hope that none of the MCRT got their hands on him.

Somehow Molly had become one of them even if she did work for a different agency. She had done so much for them from the very beginning and she did it with no fanfare and wanted no notice for it.

He was struggling to keep tears from escaping. He'd just have to keep a grip on himself. His mind wandered as he shifted in the hard uncomfortable chair that seemed generic to hospitals everywhere.

He knew Gibbs wasn't leaving here until Molly was truly on her way to recovery. Surely they'd do the investigation, perhaps other agencies might become involved, but the MCRT wasn't going anywhere. Who would do such a horrid thing? The only thing Molly owned at this moment was 56-Charlie and Roger. She didn't even have any clothing.

He wondered about Roger's condition; the boss had the vet's number. Had Gibbs told Morrow about the change in plans? Probably not since there hadn't been a proper time to do it yet. Morning when he was in the office would definitely be better. Tim was losing track of day and night.

Tim closed his eyes and talked to her in his mind. ' _Molly, you just have to survive this. We have so many things to do and I want you to teach me everything you know about flying. Fight, Molly! Don't give up!"_   He knew she couldn't hear him but he did it anyway.

At long last, he saw two familiar figures walking toward him. He hated to admit it but just seeing them gave him some degree of comfort.

"Any news?" Gibbs asked quietly. Tim gave them the last report, then they all lapsed into silence.

After a time, Tim glanced at his boss and asked, "B-Boss, y-you th-think there's any – anybody you sh-sh-should call? Check o-on Roger, maybe?"

After a long moment, Gibbs sat up straighter and sighed; he noted that Tim's stutter was back.  
"Yeah. Guess I better."

He punched a number into his phone and waited for someone to answer. Then he said, "Yeah. Gibbs, NCIS, to check on the big shepherd that was brought in with the gunshot wound. I'll wait."

Several long minutes passed before the conversation resumed.

"Yeah. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. And then? Okay. No, I'll be responsible for that. Yes, he's to be released into my custody until his owner is able to take him back. Last we heard is that the doctors are hopeful – which doesn't really tell me anything. Yes," then he added quietly, "His name is Roger, he's a retired Marine working dog who protected our troops in Afghanistan. Take good care of him."

The call ended then he glanced at the others, saying, "Roger's holding on and actually doing a little better than they expected right now. If that trend continues, they are fairly confident he'll recover – but the surgery was extensive. Bullet did a lot of damage."

Gibbs sat leaning forward resting his forearms on his thighs, looking at the floor as he spoke, then silence reigned.

After a time, Tim got up and walked down a hallway and rested his forehead against the wall. His gentle heart was nearly overwhelmed. He felt like he'd explode if those tears weren't released soon but he didn't want his team to see. Soft footsteps approached and stopped close to where he stood.

A hand lightly touched his shoulder as a nurse told him softly, "Come with me, sir. There's a place where you can have some privacy. I'll tell you if there are any updates, okay?"

Not trusting his voice, Tim just nodded and turned to follow her to what appeared to be an unused office. He walked over to the big window and looked out at the early morning sun as another day arrived. The river was not too far away and its blue water was reflecting the sunlight on its surface.

' _This is a pretty place. I can understand why – Molly - wants to stay,'_ he thought and his thoughts again centered on the DEA agent as he sat in the comfortable padded desk chair. How many broken bones? Can the doctors repair her lung in time? Where is she going to live? Who will watch after her when we're gone? How long will she have to go through rehab? Questions whirled around and around in his mind.

He couldn't leave her under all those circumstances. He and Molly had bonded in a little green airplane; their mutual love of aviation had allowed them to become very close friends. She was as excited for him to learn as he was himself. He'd take a Leave of Absence and stay until she was solidly on her feet again. He also had a lot of extra days of paid time because he had accrued so much overtime. Yeah. He'd do it. He owed her so much! Gibbs would just have to accept it.

Then he faced the fact that whoever had done this wanted her dead. She is still not safe! They had been so involved with the immediate life-and-death side of things, this hadn't dawned on him earlier.

Then, his tears began to fall. Later when he rejoined his teammates, they said nothing, understanding that sometimes you just have to let go. It's like an emotional safety valve.

Tony was having trouble dealing with everything, as well. He would sit for a few minutes in the same position as Gibbs, then he'd get up and walk down the hall, come back, sit and walk, sit and walk as the dismal hours passed.

It was getting on Gibbs' last nerve but he knew his SFA would explode if he couldn't get rid of some of that massive energy he had. The boss felt the need to channel his own pent up emotions and walked down the hall all the way to the elevator as he placed calls and talked while he paced in small circles.

After a while, Gibbs returned to his seat and resumed his study of the floor. He had had some of the same thoughts that Tim had had and knew it wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

He had made his report to Morrow, telling him that it was imperative that the team stay here to do their investigation. If Alvada was behind this vicious attack for Molly's part of the raid, he would very likely follow the team to DC and wait for an opportunity to take them out, as well. People like Alvada don't give up; they plan and wait.

He sighed. He was tired all the way down to his bones but there was no time to sleep. They had to stand by to be with Molly, take care of Roger if he makes it, conduct an extensive investigation, and complete reports detailing all the activities in which the team had participated.

Right now, at this minute, he felt so drained from the effects of the earlier adrenalin rush and shock of finding Molly and Roger at death's door plus the total destruction of her home and Jeep, he didn't know if he could even make it back to the car. He looked at Tim and Tony. About the same for them, too.

It looked strange to see stubble on their normally well-groomed faces as he ran a hand over his own. There had been no time for shaving when the call came in and in less than two minutes they were out of the parking lot and on the way.

Their thoughts were interrupted by a very tired-looking nurse who came from the OR. She gave them a small smile and said, "We've finally gotten her stabilized and a team of doctors have either repaired or made temporary repairs on the worst of the injuries until her condition improves."

She continued, "Her primary doctor will be out shortly to explain everything to you and answer questions I'm sure you have." She paused a moment, then added softly, "They did one  _helluva_  good job in there today, gentlemen. I can tell you that!"

They thanked her and mulled over the news. There was a hint of encouragement in what they heard but Molly was still in grave danger.

* * *

When the doors of the OR opened next, an exhausted man of medium height with a head of thick snowy white hair approached them, extended his hand, "I'm Doctor Richard James". He started to sit down in one of the waiting area chairs, then waved his hand and said, "Come with me."

They followed him a short distance down one of the halls and into an office strewn with files and papers. A secretary brought an additional chair and immediately afterward delivered a large pot of freshly brewed coffee and a selection of fresh Krispy Kreme doughnuts.

When everybody was settled and had something to eat, the doctor scrubbed his hand over his face and took a deep breath.

"Well, this young lady of yours gave all of us a run for our money! Ordinarily, each individual injury could be treated without a really great amount of concern. But this one! They are all on top of each other so we either had to try to repair as we went or simply ignore them for the time being, to get down the area we were aiming for – which in this case, a lung punctured by three bullets. At least we were able to save it."

"Just try cracking a chest when some of the ribs are badly broken with splintered ends. Her lung was most critical in terms of blood loss and survival so our time was limited in what we could do while trying to reach it. It was pretty touch-and-go for a while and we nearly - lost her a time or two, but we got out of it."

"She has three fractured vertebrae, arm broken in two places, torn rotator cuff, four broken fingers, six broken/cracked ribs, broken collarbone, three broken toes, one badly sprained ankle, broken nose, fractures of the orbital bone – I may be forgetting some. I think there were twenty-three broken or fractured bones."

"She'll require additional surgery in the near future, mainly to repair breaks – possibly even on her face. We won't know about her eye for a while yet. We think her spleen will heal, but if it doesn't, well – that'll have to come out. We discovered a small tear on her liver and that had to be addressed as soon as we got the lung under control. And she has a level three concussion from the beating."

"Her stomach is badly, and I mean  _badly_ , bruised but hopefully with proper treatment and care, it too can heal."

"There are even bruises on her back in the shape of a shoe. Somebody either stood or jumped on her –

which would explain the vertebrae fractures."

Dr. James closed his eyes a moment and ran a hand over his face again. "Somebody didn't intend for her to survive this. A terribly severe beating, then shot three times. It's barbaric to do such a thing."

There was silence in the room for long moments as this information was processed.

Tony closed his eyes a moment, then asked quietly, "How about her lung?"

"We believe we've taken care of that for the near term. We used a new material that "bonds" to the lung tissue, effectively closing the hole. To additionally help, we've put her on a ventilator to allow the inflated lung to heal quicker because it doesn't have to work. At some point in the future, a permanent repair will need to be done but for now, it is holding well."

Tony followed up with another question, "Lung capacity?"

"It's certain that there will be some loss, however, I don't think it will make a drastic difference unless she's involved in strenuous activity such as regular heavy running. Even that may improve over time."

Tim asked quietly, "She'll be in a hospital for a very long time, won't she?"

Dr. James nodded, saying, "I'm afraid so. But she's proven herself to be a tough fighter even if she does come in such a small package."

Tim asked, "So you expect her to survive?"

The physician inhaled deeply and exhaled as he thought. "In honesty, none of us can be 100% certain. I can tell you this: We have hope; _I_   have hope. We're  _very_  pleased that we made it this far considering the shape she was in on arrival, but the road ahead is very long. All we can do now is to take each step of the necessary repairs one at a time and pray that she can tolerate it."

"No surgery will be scheduled unless my colleagues and I feel confident that she will not be harmed by good intentions. The Hippocratic Oath to which every doctor swears begins with 'First, do no harm' and I believe in that. Let us be very thankful that we have her with us this day and for each day as it comes. Every day that she makes it through gives us that much more confidence in a successful recovery."

The agents were appreciative of the doctor's honesty and hospitality. They returned to the waiting area where a nurse would come get them when Molly was moved to her new room.

While they waited, they also discussed the issue of security. One of them had to be with her at all times; that much was clear. They didn't know who they could trust to ask for additional help. But it was certain that somebody had intended for Molly to be dead. If they found out she had survived, they'd come at her again. That was a certainty.

The flip of a coin determined that Tim would stay with her while Gibbs and Tony worked the investigation today. then he would be relieved and Tony would take his place. Somewhere, somehow, they would find a few minutes to sleep.

Once Molly had been taken to a special Critical Care Unit room and was settled in with machines large and small making their hissing, clicking, beeping or gurgling noises as they did what they were designed to do, the nurse brought the team in.

Molly looked so small in that bed. There was the ventilator, there were tubes of different sorts everywhere and she had had smaller cuts and injuries treated and bandaged, but her face... Her face was discolored beyond belief and so swollen that she bore only slight resemblance to herself. Most of her hair was stiff with dried blood.

The agents stood in silence as they processed what they saw. Gibbs was the first one who went to her bedside and spoke quietly in her ear. Then Tim did the same, followed by Tony. Gibbs stayed with her as he sent his agents to the cafeteria to get some hot food and coffee or whatever. He'd eat later.

Nurses and others came and went keeping a constant watch on her condition as told to them by the machines and their own visual observations.

Gibbs sat watching silently, unable to take his eyes off the small, still form. It was so wrong for this to happen to her. Everything that was personal and important to her had been taken away in the cruelest way possible. His teeth ground together as he thought of everything ahead of her – pain and a long hard struggle back to as good as she could manage. No one knew what that would be. Gibbs could barely breathe.

When his two agents returned, they were carrying a nicely padded comfortable desk chair they had liberated from a dark, unattended office on one of the lower floors. Eyebrow quirked, Gibbs just looked at them. "I don't even want to know."

Tim took up his station and settled into the chair. Gibbs and DiNozzo first went to the vet hospital to check on Roger.

He was one  _very_ sick dog but he still tried to lick their hands even if he couldn't lift his head. Lying on his side, he too had a collection of tubes either draining something or delivering vital fluids and medications.

The very impressive veterinarian, Dr. Jeff Ward, had been up most of the night operating on the big shepherd and seeing to his aftercare, and the lack of sleep showed on his face. He quietly and clearly explained where the path of the bullet had gone and what damage it did. He told them that it was very fortunate that the bullet had missed or only skimmed vital organs such as his heart. His lung too had been punctured but a repair had been done and the doctor would watch carefully, ready to do whatever was necessary to help Roger heal.

He estimated that shepherd would stay probably several weeks - possibly more, but had to have a calm place to rest at home as he continued healing for probably another month or so. He would come in on a regular and frequent basis for checkups to be sure that he was healing well.

Gibbs blue eyes scanned the walls of various colleges and universities Dr. Ward had attended and several different doctorate degrees. ' _Another McGee,'_  he thought with a ghost of a smile. Looking at this guy, he figured he was only in his mid-thirties.  _'Yep. Another McGee.'_

He also thought, ' _Gonna be pretty hard to take Roger home. It doesn't exist anymore.'_

At the front desk before leaving, Gibbs quietly slipped a credit card to one of the receptionists to pay for the cost of Roger's expenses in full. After that transaction, he wrote his cell number on the back of his card and asked her to give a copy to Dr. Ward and a copy for Roger's records. He asked to be called at any change in the shepherd's condition.

Back in the sedan yet again, Gibbs rubbed his hand over his face and blinked his eyes.

Tony observed, "You need some food, Boss. You haven't eaten since last night. Why don't we stop by Sylvia's place?"

Gibbs stopped and thought a minute. He felt somewhat light-headed and he had no energy at all. Yep, food would help. And a cup of her used motor oil. That was a fine cup of coffee!

After eating, they went to Molly's place and made a careful examination of the area where the confrontation had occurred but found nothing. There was simply no physical evidence here. The ground was extremely disturbed, indicating many footprints, but there was nothing useful for them in this instance. The only firm evidence was the four bullets recovered from Molly and Roger. Maybe Abby could get something from them.

Gibbs wished he could get hold of Carson's sidearm for ballistics comparison. Maybe that would be possible as the case went on.

Then they started carefully picking through the still very warm debris, hoping to find some photos or something for her. Tony had taken a lot of photos of the scene for later study, but there was nothing here but blackened ruins and a stone fireplace. A total loss, it was a devastating scene in daylight. Especially the large dark stained area where Roger and Molly had fallen.

Disheartened, they stopped by the hospital to check on Molly (no change) and Tony and Tim switched places. Then Gibbs took Tim to get some good food from Sylvia's, then it was a long hot shower, then some sleep for both of them.

Gibbs had made a few calls. His anger grew stronger and stronger at the DEA Division Chief. The man hadn't even as much as called to see where she was or to check on her safety. The NCIS Senior Agent made up his mind that he and that particular gentleman were going to have another little prayer meeting in the morning.

One of his calls had been to Tobias Fornell to see if the FBI was involved with the search for Alvada. He told him about the horrendous attack against Molly. Her status as a federal agent would provide all the legal validation required for their participation in the case, if not also for the drugs. Fornell accepted the case and told Gibbs that he'd have agents dispatched immediately from Raleigh and they would be there within three hours.

Lying in bed, Gibbs was exhausted but he couldn't get his racing mind to shut down. He was relieved that the FBI was going to conduct the investigation. Three agents just couldn't cover all the bases, especially running an investigation while providing security at the hospital. They would give statements to the FBI and concentrate their efforts on security.

Molly worried him. He knew from Tony's experience a few years ago that any injury to the lungs was a major concern. Add everything else on top of that and - -.  He admitted to himself that he was afraid. He tried to force himself to admit that it was a reality that she may not make it. She might die. He was sure these doctors were very competent but, still, he didn't know them. Trusting a stranger wasn't a strong point with Special Agent Gibbs.

Suffering from extreme fatigue, Tim's eyes were literally glazed by the time he finished his shower and shave, and tumbled into bed, instantly asleep.

* * *

Tony sat in silence beside Molly's bed. Thankfully, this room was larger than others he had been in. It allowed plenty of room for machines and whatever equipment required as well as extra space for doctors, nurses and techs to do whatever was required of them. There was a large window in the long wall but besides street lights, there was nothing to see at this time of night.

The chair was comfortable and he couldn't hide a small grin as he thought of dragging the protesting Tim into the empty office and ordering him to grab hold of the other end of the chair. Amazingly, no one stopped them or questioned why two civilians were carrying this big chair through the halls of the hospital. Grand theft auto – uh, chair.

He wasn't alone in the room with Molly. There was almost always at least one nurse or technician by her bed watching the gauges and readings of the various machines, and observing Molly. He didn't see how they could tell anything by watching her. The only thing visible besides her battered face was one arm that wore a temporary cast.

One of the nurses thoughtfully brought a blanket and pillow for him and told him to take a nap; one of the staff would always be present. He smiled and accepted her kind offerings but elected to keep the security part quiet right now. He would not be sleeping, as much as his body begged for it.

There was a change of staff somewhere along the way during the long night and Tony was really struggling to keep his eyes open. He stood and walked around the room to stretch his long legs and get his circulation going.

He stood looking out the window into the darkness when he heard someone approach the open sliding glass doorway. He turned to see a technician who looked startled at his presence and stopped in his tracks.

The man muttered something about the wrong room and hurried away. A nurse entered and Tony asked, "Karen, do you know the man who just left here?"

She said, "No, I don't think I've seen him before. Must be new."

Alarm bells started to ring in the Senior Field Agent's mind. He walked to the doorway and looked up and down the hallways. At the far end of one hallway, he saw three men standing closely together talking to each other in low voices. When one of them turned and saw him looking, he nudged the others toward the stairwell and they disappeared.

* * *

~ Continued ~

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1 part 1: Beginnings

* * *

 

Gibbs' phone rang and he knew it wouldn't be good, so he sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed as he answered, "Gibbs."

"Boss, trouble at the hospital." Tony explained what had happened.

"Be there in fifteen, DiNozzo. Watch your six."

Having heard the boss' phone, Tim groggily got up and began hastily dressing. He went through the connecting door to Gibbs' room ready to go. "Boss?"

"Security problem."

Tim sighed with relief that is wasn't about Molly's condition.

Again Gibbs was thankful for the quiet streets in the middle of the night and made record time getting to the hospital. Guns not yet drawn but ready, the agents scanned the area around the one main public door that was open at this time of night but it appeared to be deserted.

Entering the hospital, they took the elevator up to the third floor that was occupied by ICU, CCU, and NICU for newborns. As soon as the elevator doors opened, they saw Tony standing just outside Molly's room watching the three primary hallways he could see from his vantage point. He was very glad to see Gibbs and McGee approaching.

He filled them in on the suspicious technician and the small group he had seen at the end of a hallway by the stairwell.

Gibbs nodded and told Tony, "Go get a nap and rest. Tim and I rested a little so we're good. We got it now."

"Boss, the whole point of calling you was so all of us could keep lookout, maybe two down these main hallways and one here at the door. I'm fine."

Gibbs sighed and twisted his head to the side before muttering with a glare, "If I never hear that word 'fine' again, I'd be a happy man."

Tony stood his ground. "Really, Boss, I'm fi – I'm good!"

The response to him was a Gibbs-snort, then, "Okay, you stay here. Tim and I are going to check around."

"Got it, Boss."

The staff went in and out, closely identified by the tall stern federal agent standing guard and time ticked by slowly. At one point a man came along pushing a mop and bucket, staring curiously into the activity in the room but when his eyes met the fierce green glare of the man at the door, he hurried away. Tony wasn't about to trust anyone.

Gibbs and McGee were very quietly checking out everything and everyone. The first and second hallways seemed to be clear, so they continued over to the third one. Immediately they saw a man who looked Latino just sort of standing around with his hands in his pockets. He also seemed to be paying inordinate nervous attention to the two men approaching.

It appeared that the man was trying to decide whether to run or not but decided to try to bluff his way through if cornered or questioned.

Gibbs' stern blue eyes were laser-locked on him. The expression on the face of the other agent was just as frightening. This didn't look good. At all.

Gibbs and McGee flipped their badges open to him and had him sort of blocked in against the wall. Looking rapidly from one to the other, he stammered, "Qué deseas? Quién es usted?" ("What do you want? Who are you?")

Gibbs informed him in fluent Spanish, "Federal agents. We're the ones who ask the questions. I want to see some ID and what are you doing here?"

The man shuffled his feet and murmured, "I am only a visitor here. I am waiting for friends."

"Do you usually wait for friends in a hospital corridor in the middle of the night? Show me your ID."

The man ducked his head, saying softly, "I do not have American ID. I am from Mexico."

Gibbs responded, "Well, that answers one question but I'll ask only one more time; what are you doing here?"

Gibbs' voice was still low but the tone was getting harder and harder and those fierce eyes had all but drilled a hole all the way through him.

"I – uh, I wait for somebody."

_"Who?"_

"He didn't tell me his name, sir. He gave me money and told me to wait in this place."

"So why did he give you money? What were you hired to do?"

"He didn't tell very much. He said he wanted to surprise a friend and I was to take the attention of anyone around so he could do his surprise."

Without another word, McGee spun the suspect around to face the wall, grabbed his arms behind him and cuffed him, saying, "You're under arrest. You will sit quietly until an officer comes for you. Understand that?"

This man's voice had steel in it along with an unspoken promise of very bad things if he was opposed.

"Eduardo. My name is Eduardo. I will obey."

Gibbs went to a wall phone and dialed the hospital security officers who came rather quickly and took the suspect with them.

Gibbs said, "I'm going to update Tony. Keep watch here." His gut had returned to life with Molly's call and was now churning unmercifully.

"Got it, Boss," McGee responded firmly.

Gibbs all but flew up the corridor and turned right onto the corridor where Molly's room was located. He saw Tony having what appeared to be a rather heated discussion with a doctor outside Molly's door.

Tony was saying with cold steel in his voice, "You don't get into this room until one of the staff that _I_ know verifies that you are on staff here."

"Young man, you have no idea the danger you are flirting with by denying me access to this patient! I suggest you cease and desist immediately!" The rather pompous doctor was a bit on the short side with black hair and eyes.

Gibbs barked, "We deal with danger every day of our lives. This agent is right. Until you are properly identified, this is as close as you get."

One of the nurses that Tony recognized approached the door. "Regina, do you recognize this man?"

She looked carefully at him with a slight frown, then said, "Just a moment."

The doctor looked ready to blow his stack in the face of the these quiet but fierce agents. The nurse returned with a much older woman who looked at the doctor closely. "I've been here for close to forty years and I've never seen him."

Gibbs had the imposter in handcuffs before he could even speak.

"Thank you very much, ladies," Tony smiled. Then he proceeded to search the man and immediately found a syringe with a whitish liquid in it in the pocket of the white coat. "Got something, Boss," as he held up the syringe.

Gibbs looked at the prisoner's flat black eyes with a smirk as icy cold blue eyes pinned him to the wall. "Wonder what we'll find when we take this to the lab?" He started to turn away but faced him again and said, "If you're wondering where you diversion is, he's in custody downstairs."

The imposter remained silent but pure evil spewed out of his eyes.

Another call to the hospital's security staff brought two more officers who would hold this prisoner in the Security Department's small jail until further disposition was decided.

Gibbs opened his cell and pushed a number. "McGee, get back here," then snapped it closed.

He took a deep breath as he stared in the distance at nothing, then he breathed, "They're not going to stop."

* * *

Having made his decision, Gibbs punched some numbers on his cellphone. When the call was answered, he spoke in a commanding tone, "I need a medevac immediately!  _Yes_ , it's necessary, dammit! Wouldn't be asking if it wasn't! NOW! We've already had several more attempts to kill her and it won't be the last if we stay here. Extremely critical. Yes, I'll bring the records. Let me know when.  _Because I don't want it!"_ then broke the connection with a growl.

DiNozzo asked a little hesitantly, "Director - Morrow?"

Gibbs answered with a sigh, "Yeah. Wonders why I don't just take the directorship."

When McGee arrived, they filled him in, then Gibbs went in search of the head nurse of this department, the same one who had identified the phony doctor as an imposter. He explained that a medevac flight would be arriving shortly and they were taking her patient elsewhere.

This is when Gibbs nearly met his match! There was a toe-to-toe 'discussion' that had heads peeking around corners and out of doors to simply watch. When it seemed that the rock had truly hit a hard place, Dr. James came along and immediately joined in the fun.

Amazingly Gibbs held himself in check enough that he got the doctor to understand the continuing danger of staying here.

The older doctor looked the tall agent in the eyes for a long, long moment, then said, "Agent Gibbs, this goes against everything I've ever known or believed in as a doctor. To move a patient in the condition she is in could easily be fatal. I think you understand that. But in the face of repeated attempts on her life in this hospital, I think you may be right. I just pray to God that I'm not making a terrible mistake!"

Gibbs nodded and responded softly, "Me, too, doc. Me, too."

Those quiet words seemed to show Serena Benson, the head nurse, that there really wasn't a choice under the circumstances, as they all had reluctantly agreed. She saw deep concern, almost fear in the eyes of this agent. He truly believed that this is the terrible decision he had to make in trying to keep the patient safe from assassins.

Gibbs' phone trilled. "Yeah, Gibbs. Yeah, I just talked to him. Hold on a minute." "Hey, doc. You got a minute to talk to these people?"

The doctor entered into a detailed conversation of the patient's current status, equipment and machines required and a lot of other stuff only McGee might have a chance at understanding. By the end of the call, the medevac medical team knew exactly what was required of them and would be prepared to provide optimal care for the patient enroute.

Gibbs released a long sigh that this hurdle had been cleared. A medevac chopper would transport her from the hospital to the airport where she would be transferred to the larger aircraft.

Gibbs instructed his agents, "After I leave with Molly, go back to the hotel and  _get some sleep_! Tomorrow, check on Roger. Ask Dr. Ward to stay in close touch with us and we'll come get Roger when he's ready to leave. Watch your backs! And be safe driving back. Don't need any more casualties! Check by the airport and tell Mike to watch out for her plane. We'll get it to DC somehow as soon as we can. Don't say where we're taking her. Nobody needs to know."

The two younger agents nodded, then kept watch in the corridor as more medical staff moved in and out, preparing Molly for transport. As soon as the military aircraft landed, they would take her to the helipad on the roof.

While waiting, Gibbs made another call and woke somebody up with great pleasure. When it was answered, Gibbs said happily, "Good morning, Carson! It'll be a beautiful day – when the sun comes up. By the way, how's your Agent MacKenzie getting along? Heard from her? No? Is she alright? You mean that one of your agents goes missing and you don't even check on her?

Then the infuriated marine sergeant in him came out, "Well, I  _CAN_  tell you where she is and the only reason I'm telling you on the phone is that I won't be here to tell it to your face! She's in the hospital because somebody tried to kill her and damn near succeeded, with more attempts here. No need to come check on her now because I'm taking her out by medevac. You have to be one of the more disgusting specimens of so-called humanity I've ever come across."

The phone was snapped shut and wide-eyed staff began to again move in the corridor.

* * *

A little over five months passed before Molly was finally cleared to leave Bethesda. Gibbs had given Abby his credit card with instructions to buy some clothing for her, so dressed in a pretty outfit, Molly was excited to finally get outside. It was late February and still cold but spring wasn't far away.

For a long time, they didn't even tell her she had been moved from North Carolina. As her mind slowly cleared as she recovered from the coma, she had learned the truth. She had nearly given in to complete despair when Gibbs finally told her about her grandparent's home and her belongings.

Leaning over her bed, he had held her for hours until she cried herself out. That was the lowest point she had ever been, with the exception of the deaths of her grandparents. Gibbs made sure someone was with her around the clock to help her get through this newest hurdle.

The only happy news was that Roger was in DC with Gibbs and doing well. Molly clung to that as her liferaft. His recovery had been tough but easier than that of his mistress. He didn't understand what had happened to her and mourned her loss greatly.

As the months had crawled by, she had become good friends with all the other members of the DC team, even Director Morrow stopped in now and then. Their care and support had made this terrible ordeal more bearable. Dr. Pitt had been magnificent to her and his great skill as a physician guided her recovery, healing and rehab.

He had operated and made permanent repairs on the holes in her lung and managed her surgery for all of the breaks and fractures she had suffered. She had also come to know him as a friend. There was more rehab to be done, but it could be done at home by following illustrated instruction sheets. She'd return to see him regularly to monitor her progress.

She was wheeled out in a chair where a dark blue sedan waited for her with a happy DiNozzo at the wheel. Her flowers, balloons and cards were somehow all squeezed in and she was glad to be leaving but also rather nervous.

Apparently there had been quite a row over where she would stay and it shouldn't be a surprise that Gibbs won.

During the ride from Bethesda, the moving car actually made her dizzy after having been stationary for so long. Tony had kept her distracted with funny stories and just talking. She smiled to herself, ' _I wonder if he talks in his sleep?'_

The reception at Gibbs' house was unexpected, noisy and happy. Molly could tell right away that Abby had been in charge of decorations; they were everywhere!

Tears flowed nonstop when Roger came flying out of the door like a rocket and all but knocked her over, a solid one hundred and ten pounds of wiggling, tail-wagging, whining, crying, deliriously happy German Shepherd.

Inside, steaks were sizzling on a large grill placed in Gibbs' wide fireplace; 'cowboy style' she was told. She was placed in one of the very comfortable chairs near the warm fireplace while the others went about making salads, pouring drinks and whatever else needed doing. Roger stuck close by her; he would not allow her to be out of his sight and anybody who tried was going to have a problem.

Molly noticed that all of them seemed totally at home here and knew where everything was. Gibbs had told her that all the others had stayed with him at various times, so it was nothing new and she should just relax and rest. Just because she had been released from the hospital didn't mean that she was fully recovered by any means.

As everyone ate and chattered, her brown eyes drifted across them, stopping on each one. What a truly wonderful group of people!

In the coming weeks and months, her strength returned steadily in response to the training regimen Brad had recommended and her now-daily runs with Roger in the neighborhood. She became a familiar sight to neighbors who responded to her friendly waves with smiles and waves of their own. They didn't really know who she was but they liked her friendliness.

Roger loved these runs, as well. He especially loved having his mistress back with him all day long. He had gotten used to being by himself while she worked but he didn't like it. He liked these new humans but her image had often been in his memory and he would sigh as he wondered if he'd ever see her again. He thought he'd nearly explode when he saw her being helped out of the car! He didn't have the words, but those were his emotions.

Molly worked hard on getting herself back in condition and on the range of motion in the arm that was so affected by the shattered collar bone which was now put back together. She certainly had her share of scars now but she was back on her feet with a blank future in front of her.

Gibbs worked with her in the basement with all of her home rehab sessions and on regaining range of motion by helping her stretch that arm further and further. It was terribly painful as scar tissue was stretched, torn as it slowly gave way but it was the only way to do it. By the end of a workout, unbid tears left tracks on her sweaty cheeks. Pain was exhausting. There had been so much pain for so long, she was almost used to it. Almost.

At times Molly felt as if she couldn't go on one more minute but Gibbs was relentless in keeping her going. Often she could barely make it back up the stairs. Roger was worried by these activities which obviously caused his mistress stress and pain and he didn't understand why she kept doing it. He wished they could go back to the quiet, peaceful place they used to be. He missed it.

Then came the evening when only about half-way through the rehab session, Molly slowly leaned back against the rough basement wall, eyes distressed and focused on things far away, shook her head in slow-motion as she began to slide down the wall to the floor.

Gibbs caught her by her upper arms, "Molly! What's wrong?"

In a faint whisper, not even looking at him, she answered, "Can't. No more."

Concerned, not fully understanding to what she referred, he slipped strong arms under her and carried her upstairs to the old couch.

Molly almost felt panic building in her but she didn't know what it was about. She only knew that something in her was about to explode, to give way, and it scared her badly.

Gibbs returned with a little amber-colored liquid in a small glass. He raised her head a little and ordered, "Drink this."

One tiny sip and she choked and sputtered at the strong, harsh taste as bourbon introduced itself to her tastebuds.

"Drink!" Gibbs' forceful voice ordered as he pressed the glass against her lips and spilled some of it into her.

Coughing and choking, Molly tried to get her breath back as she pushed against Gibbs' chest. Being badly outmatched in the strength department, the battle continued until a full ounce or more of the foul stuff was ingested.

Face red, eyes watering, the angry agent tried to slug her boss for forcing the drink into her.

Gibbs grabbed her hands to stop her swings at him and firmly held her down.

She snapped angrily, "Turn me loose! What are you tryin' to prove, Jethro Gibbs? That you're bigger than me? That you're stronger? Well, duh! I don't know what you're thinkin' but I'm thinkin' you've lost your mind!"

Gibbs held her down and let her blast him until she began to run out of the little bit of strength she had left after the workout downstairs. As the expected tears began to fight to be released in her eyes, he gathered her closely and murmured to her, "Molly, you were crashing. You were giving up, losing your fight. I couldn't let any of that happen. I know you don't drink but it was the fastest way I could think of to snap you out of it. I knew you'd fight. You with me now? Feeling better?"

She didn't say anything but the tears just kept coming. Molly didn't know what was going on with herself. She had never felt this – whatever it was – out of control? in her life. She had never before reached this point before. The only thing she could do was let this terrible beast in her out and try to start over.

Gibbs had stayed there, holding her, rocking her gently back and forth until the sobs quieted and she seemed to go silent in total exhaustion.

Later, she fell into a deep sleep, waking only when Gibbs gently called her and shook her shoulder. He had a cup of tea and a sandwich waiting for her. Afterward, she managed a shower and fell into bed, still recovering from the total emotional exhaustion to which she had finally succumbed.

It seemed the more Molly tried to think of the future, she was stopped by visions of the beloved home she had lost and all the priceless treasures it held. She was trying hard to just accept it and move on. She was in a new place with a great group of people and was well qualified in several different disciplines, so a securing a job shouldn't be any problem. Maybe it was too much new all at once. There was nothing to ever go back to.

Gibbs had provided her with a quiet, comfortable, supportive place to live while she recovered and was really good company for her. She would forever be thankful for his kindness and generosity. She wouldn't even have a stitch of clothing if it wasn't for him.

She had tried to repay him for Roger's expensive care and the clothing he had paid for, but he wouldn't hear of it and seemed a bit insulted that she had tried. Sometimes he confused her. There were many, many layers to this man and she had not yet gotten through very many of them.

Gibbs frequently insisted that she go the shooting range with him to work on her marksmanship. All of the internal and external scar tissue had an effect on what she had been accustomed to. Her right arm was affected by the gunshot wound that had so badly damaged her collarbone. He instructed her on slight adjustments to make in her stance, changing her two-handed grip a little to compensate.

He was a quiet, patient instructor and she was a determined student. Perfect combination. The grouping of her shots were getting tighter and tighter, centered right on the target.

Each of them secretly enjoyed the close physical contact that was often required as Gibbs adjusted this position or that but would never let the other know. Molly had wondered if she'd be able to hit the broad side of the barn after feeling the heat and strength of his body close against her. ' _Concentrate! Just concentrate!'_

After this most recent day on the firing range, Gibbs told her he wanted to stop by the office before going home. That was fine with her as she enjoyed going inside and seeing everyone. As they entered the bullpen, Gibbs gestured to the empty desk as he walked to his own desk and said, "Have a seat."

Tim smiled and asked how it was going at the range.

She laughed, "Okay." Gesturing towards Gibbs, she said, "Tough instructor!"

Gibbs commented quietly as he examined various papers on his desk, "Because you can do it and you're worth it. Rule 5: never waste good." He got up and tossed a sheet of paper onto the desktop where she sat.

Molly looked up with a slight frown. "What's this?"

"Read it and sign it."

Taking a closer look, she looked at Gibbs in surprise, "This is a job application!"

Gibbs responded reasonably, "Well, you're looking for a job, aren't you? There's a job."

"But - - doin' what?"

Gibbs sat back in the chair at his desk as Tim and Tony locked their eyes on him.

"Being the fourth member of our team."

Molly's mouth was agape as she stared at the Senior Agent in shock. He grinned as he asked, "Well?"

Molly didn't know what to say. She was totally overwhelmed at the moment. She looked at Gibbs, Tim and Tony who were watching her intently. Wouldn't you know it would be Tony who broke the spell.

"Come on, MollyMac. You're more than qualified! You have  _seven years_  of field investigative work, you're already a qualified federal agent, and from what I hear, your scores at the range are close to the top. And don't forget, you've got to finish teaching McJuniorBirdman how to fly."

He got up from his desk, crossed over to hers, putting one hand on the desk, one hand on the back of her chair, he leaned down close to her saying softly, "Sign it, Molly. Please! We need you."

* * *

Once Molly was finally cleared for duty, she began her new job. She felt lost at first, trying to learn the procedures and paperwork here, but she worked hard to get it right. Her quick mind served her well.

Not long after she officially joined NCIS, Tobias Fornell stopped by, smiling to see Molly at her new position.

"Damn, Gibbs; you did it again! I had Mac tagged to come work with me. You owe me!"

"You're too slow, Tobias. Gotta learn when to make your move."

"Show off," Fornell muttered.

Then he said, "Actually I came to see Agent MacKenzie."

Looking at her with serious but kind eyes, the Senior FBI agent told her, "This is a copy of the final report on the Carolina case. We were able to connect the Assistant chief with Alvada which shut down the leak. He's being held on a number of charges, among them arson and attempted murder of a federal officer. Your affidavit identifying him at the scene as the one who shot you and Roger cinched it."

He gently put the report on her desk and said softly, "It's finally over, Molly. They're all in jail and the search for Alvada will go on. Agents all over the world are looking for him. It's just a matter of time."

Molly stared at the report, wanting to read it and not wanting to read it. She was slowly beginning to accept her losses and didn't want to do anything that would change that.

She looked up at Fornell and said, "Agent Fornell, I – I can't thank you enough. This gives me a bit of closure on that part of my life. They didn't get away with it. I was so –  _stunned_  - to see George Langford deliberately firing that gun at me. He had always been so nice whenever I had contact with him in the office. I – was positive that Carson was the one."

She looked up into the world-weary face of the veteran FBI agent and smiled warmly as she held out her hand, "Thank you, Tobias."

Fornell folded her small hand into both of his then gave her a smile and a wink. "I still think you ought to come over to us, Mac. What would it take to convince you to make the change?"

She smiled as she gestured to her three partners, saying, "They'd have to come with me. We're a team."

* * *

Only weeks afterward, Tony walked back into the bullpen, noticing the occupied expression in Molly's eyes as she stared at the nearby window.

"What are you daydreaming about, MollyMac? Get your report done?"

A little startled that she hadn't been aware of his approach, she smiled as she looked up into those green-blue eyes. "Yep, it's on your desk. Just thinkin' about gettin' a car. I need to start puttin' myself back together and stop dependin' on everybody else so much."

So it happened that all three of her partners got involved in the search for the perfect car for her. Gibbs, DiNozzo and McGee ruled out another jeep. It was fine for the work she did in the past – not to mention getting in and out of that dirt track of hers – and she didn't want a truck or van.

She searched online for various makes and models to see if anything interested her but they didn't.

"They all look alike," she complained.

In what little free time they had, they haunted car lots by the thousands, or so it seemed. But there really hadn't been time to even think about it much lately. They had been almost overwhelmed by the case loads they had had.

Molly really enjoyed the work she was doing, even if the hours often left her exhausted. It was awesome actually having such a superior team to work with even if she was the probie.

Being at the bottom of the totem pole again, she took orders from Gibbs, Tony and Tim. If somebody told her do something, she responded no matter who it was. She took it in good stride and honestly didn't mind all the 'probie stuff' she did. It was part of learning and she had three excellent, if different, teachers. Yeah, climbing into trash collectors wasn't a lot of fun – but it was right that she was the one to do it. Part of learning.

But she also had an influence on the team. When she first joined them, Gibbs had gone off on one of his explosive tantrums that had everybody ducking for cover.

But Molly had stood up, hands on hips and just stared fiercely at him until he finally got embarrassed and stopped yelling.

Maintaining her posture, very quietly but with unmistakable firmness she said, "The man  _I_  admire has the  _self-control and maturity_  to keep himself under control. He would  _never_  belittle people or attempt to intimidate them. And he certainly wouldn't scream  _at his own team_ , the very ones who  _keep_  that team as the premier MCRT in the entire agency. I hope  _that_ man returns soon 'cause I sure as heck don't think much of the one here now!"

There was utter silence in the entire room. Even Director Morrow, who had stepped out of his office for a moment, peered over the railing in silence.

Unmoving and unyielding, Molly just stood as she was looking up at Gibbs as he looked down at her.

Finally he commented quietly, "I'm that bad, huh?"

She nodded and held her ground as another moment passed.

"I'll work on it." He spun around and went to his desk.

Tony and Tim sat in stunned silence, staring at the boss with disbelief in their eyes.

Gibbs glanced at them and growled, "You two have any work to do?"

"Yeah, Boss. We're on it."

"On it, Boss!"

* * *

The noose was closing in on Carlos Alvada. After leaving Wilmington, he had driven down I-95 to Florida to tend to some business there and to wait in a safe villa until he felt comfortable about leaving, then went to Atlanta to meet with some associates and stayed there for a bit. He felt very smug since he had successfully evaded all the federal agents and cops looking for him.

At times, he sensed that he was being watched but could never spot anyone. He decided that he was still nervous about being captured again and let it go at that. He had outsmarted the American law officers.

He next headed for Charleston, South Carolina. The big combined Navy/Air Force base there was of interest to him and he had arranged meetings with some people there. As he arrived on the outskirts of Charleston, the big Lincoln Towncar he was driving forced him to stop for gas, and before he realized it, law enforcement vehicles swarmed around him.

The instant he saw the SCSP cars blocking him in, he removed the fuel nozzle from his car and attempted to spray the State Troopers with the high octane fuel. One spark and they would go up in flames which was Alvada's hope so he'd have a clear path to escape. But Lady Luck had finally turned her back on him.

Alvada found himself ignobly cuffed and put into the back of a marked cruiser by a not-too-gentle giant of a man wearing the uniform of the South Carolina State Patrol. He would be transported back to North Carolina as soon as all the paperwork was completed.

Alvada had remained silent from the moment he was captured. He knew things these lawmen didn't and doubted he'd spend more than a few nights incarcerated, if that. As he left Wilmington after the terrible raid, he had pushed one certain button on his cellphone. If he didn't ring a certain number by a certain time every evening, a long standing plan would go into effect. Money talked and his spoke loudly. He may not have the untold millions he had earlier, but he was far removed from destitution.

During the long booking process, he remained silent and non-combative. He believed he would be free shortly. He had had plans in place for many years to meet such contingencies as this. By early evening the next day, all the judges' orders and paperwork were complete and in order, so, under very heavy security, Alvada was led out to a big SUV in which he would be transported back to Wilmington, about a seven hour drive up Highway 17.

In a bright orange jumpsuit, leg irons and handcuffs, Alvada sat quietly in the back seat as the two troopers assigned to do the transport murmured last minute details to each other, then climbed into the front seat of the vehicle and left the county jail behind.

Alvada wished he could have a cigar and a cup of good Colombian coffee. That jailhouse stuff served with an inedible breakfast and lunch wasn't even worthy of being called coffee. But, he'd be patient. He sat imagining the lavish dinner he would enjoy the next evening. The best of everything served perfectly in a perfect setting, hopefully with a perfect young woman. A sly smile crossed his mouth as he daydreamed.

* * *

Next in

NCIS

The Carolina Connection Series

Book 1 Part 2

~ Vendetta ~

 


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